A Big Brother Protects
by fluffyfun91
Summary: For the better part of his life Alfred has had the knowledge that his big brother was watching over him and his twin Matthew. But when tragedy strikes, Alfred is left to question how good he really knew his big brother.  Brotherly USUK Hints of FRUK
1. Proloog

Summary- For the better part of his life Alfred has had the knowledge that his big brother was watching over him and his twin Matthew; always caring for them. But when tragedy strikes, Alfred is left to question how good he really knew his big brother. hints of Fruk and brotherly USUK and brotherly CANADA/UK

**I do not own Hetalia ;)**

**A Big Brother Protects**

_He never saw it coming. _

* * *

><p><strong>The day everything changed, was perfectly normal.<strong>

He truly didn't possess any form of intuition, he would like to say that the moment he stepped through the door he felt that something was wrong. But he didn't, just like always, He and Matthew met just before the front door, just like always he would be telling some exciting story and his twin would listen attentively. Just like always, the house smelled like freshly made tea, just like always Alfred announced their presence by yelling his 'hello' really loud, so it was echoing through the house, telling all inside that the hero had returned home.

Just like always, they had expected Arthur to be waiting for them.

That day when the world came crashing down on them was like any other.

The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was a broken tea cup.

They had been chatting and talking, Alfred himself was always hungry, so he went to the refrigerator and took out a much deserved snack, all the while happily thinking about the morning's events and how annoying it was that Arthur had practically forced them to work this summer, so in an hour they had to report at their jobs. Time he could've spend with Kiku.

Out of the blue Matthew knelt on the floor and Alfred, the always curious one, knelt to see what was so interesting.

A broken tea cup.

The spilled tea a puddle around it.

Even then, Alfred didn't expect much of it, he didn't suddenly get a bad feeling in his stomach, he didn't suddenly felt apprehensive. Really, the only thing that was going through his mind was how he could tease Arthur about leaving such a mess in the kitchen.

But Matthew seemed worried, the way he stared at the teacup, the way he suddenly looked around, his eyebrows frowned. To this day, Alfred doesn't understand why Matthew had felt something was wrong, how Matthew had seen that something wasn't right; why would the normally overly obsessive, protective, neat-freak Arthur break a cup and not clean it up?

There were a million answers to that question, but Matthew seemed to sense that something was amiss. Alfred could hear the worried undertone in Matthew's voice when he started calling for Arthur.

Even then, after the sixth time Matthew had called their brothers name, the one more panicked than the other, Alfred still didn't worry. A broken teacup, that wasn't a reason for panic, was it?

"What's wrong with you, Matthew? Artie's probably grocer-"

That's when his eyes landed on the substance that was smeared on the white door handle, it took him a moment to process, but finally he recognized it.

Blood.

And in one second, all Alfred's calm disappeared, leaving only a blinding panic.

* * *

><p><em>He was shocked, horrified but mostly sad when he saw the crazed look of his attacker.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred met Arthur when he was seven years old.<strong>

He would never forget that first meeting; How blue had met green and how his father had run up to the boy, embracing him tightly, how the strange boy -who was supposed to be his new big brother- didn't seem all that special to Alfred. He hadn't understood why their little family needed another addition. The four of them had always been a happy family; him, his twin Matthew, his mommy and his daddy.

No, at that time, The only thing Alfred found special about the new addition in his family were his large eyebrows and his ability to get all of his father's attention. The weeks that followed hadn't changed Alfred's mind about the intruder; the sixteen year old boy spoke strange, burned the entire kitchen while attempting to cook and continued to take most of his father's time away. But the absolute worst thing Alfred found the stranger to do was that he made his mommy unhappy.

It had been at dinnertime when Alfred finally became fed up with the _stranger_, and blurted, right there at the dinner table, _those words_;

_Why is he even here? I hate him! can't he go back to where he came from? _

Then he had turned to Arthur, and shouted right into his face;

_Don't you have an family of your own to go back too?_

His twin brother had been so shocked he had started to cry, all the while screaming that Alfred was really mean.

He hadn't cared

His mother had shot him a look he had never been able to decipher, one between relief and sheer horror.

He hadn't cared

His father had been unbelievably angry, telling him that Arthur was _their_ family,_ his_ son, _their_ brother.

He hadn't cared

No, when the whole dining table became a mess of angry and sad words, shouts, whispers, prayers, he hadn't cared.

He had been too busy looking in those ever green eyes, filled with sadness, regret and self-loathing. Looking at the tears streaming down those cheeks.

Looking at those lips, which kept mouthing the same words, over and over again.

_I'm sorry_

That had been the first time Alfred ever wanted to punch himself. Months afterwards, Alfred heard from his brother that Arthur had wanted to leave that very night but that their Daddy had stopped him, Matthew had said that Arthur had been determent to walk away and he had also told Alfred that they were lucky dad had been strong enough to force Arthur to stay.

Alfred reluctantly agreed.

* * *

><p><em>He tried to talk him out of it, but that only seemed to edge the attacker on; the scars ran so deep, hatred all consuming<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred had started to love Arthur when he was seven-and-a-half years old.<strong>

Not even a half year after the boy had come to live with them, Alfred had admitted to himself that he never wanted his other brother to leave. The boy seemed to care about them a lot, even though Alfred could be mean and although Arthur could yell sometimes, both Matthew and Alfred could feel that their older brother cared a lot about them.

It was a nice feeling, to receive such unconditional love from somebody you had just known a half year.

Yes, Alfred realized as he and Arthur and Matthew played a funny game named 'Football' (which actually meant 'soccer') with him, every Friday night on the playground, a little while from their house.

As all his classmates stared in admiration at his big brother, when he dropped them off on his scooter, Matthew on the front, Alfred in the back. Laughing and waving them off.

As Alfred, scared of all the unfamiliar sounds and sights in his room, bolted through the house, terribly afraid. He would always go to his brother's room who would never be angry at him for waking him; he would simply move the covers of his bed and invite him inside. Curled up in his big brother's bed, Alfred could safely close his eyes again.

As Arthur, with an enthusiasm nobody could imitate, read him the most magical fairy tales 'till deep into the night. Arthur's eyes shining as he told Alfred that every word was true.

He loved his big brother.

* * *

><p><em>He tried to run, but he was not fast enough<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred had started to depend on Arthur when he was nine years old.<strong>

Arthur always helped them when they were in trouble, when Matthew had trouble with bullies and when Alfred had trouble with authority figures.

When they called for his help, he would be there.

Just like he was there, on that rainy Saturday evening in his nice black suit, holding both Alfred's own and Matthew's hand, squeezing them reassuringly when he and his twin could only sob loudly as their parents slowly disappeared into the ground.

After that day, Arthur did everything to ensure that they would get an happy childhood, as an eighteen year old he arranged them to be legally in his care (to this day Alfred still doesn't know how the green eyed boy had pulled that off), preventing them to be taken apart in foster care. Knowing that bills had to be paid, Arthur even gave up his own future in exchange for theirs.

* * *

><p><em>He tried to fight, but he wasn't strong enough<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred figured out that Arthur was different at ten.<strong>

Matthew had known all along, apparently they had been told all about it when Arthur just arrived, but back then, Alfred had been angry and he hadn't been paying much attention.

When Alfred asked, Arthur had laughed, asking what had given him away; The accent? His behaviour? The incredibly rude cashier who had called him a 'stupid brit'.

Alfred was ashamed to admit it was the last one.

They had sat together, all three of them, and Arthur told them all about the country he came from, the way he told about his home country was beautiful, his eyes shone and his face lit up, just like when he would tell them those magical fairy tale. Alfred hadn't gotten it and he could see his brother hadn't too; if it had been so wonderful there, why had he left? Why had he left all that behind?

Arthur simply smiled and told them that he came to America to be a big brother.

And although Alfred knew Arthur was speaking the truth, he couldn't help but feel there was more to it.

Especially when he saw the sad look on his brother's face.

* * *

><p><em>The only thing he didn't do was beg; he wouldn't beg… Well, not for his own life anyway.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred understood that Arthur would do anything for them at twelve.<strong>

"Please, Arthur consider my offer!"

"No."

"This is the chance you been looking for! Think rationally!"

"I am, with my current job and the money my father left, Alfred and Matthew will be able to get a full education-"

"But what about you? You had dreams, don't you remember? You were so happy when you came here!"

"I've got responsibilities now, Gilbert!"

"Can't you just stick them in a-"

"No!"

"I don't get you Arthur! You finally got a chance to get out this miserable excuse for a life and you just won't take it! Just come with me! We'll be able to travel the world, like we always wanted!"

"Meanwhile, Alfred and Matthew can just take care of their own? Is that it? I will not leave my brothers!"

"They're not even your real brothers!"

"GILBERT!"

"Well, It's true isn't it? Half-brothers at most, conceived by the very prick that left you and your REAL mother!"

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? Insulting my brother? Telling me my life had no worth? You have absolutely NO right!"

"Am I wrong? Did you enjoy being a personal punching bag of your mother's boyfriends? Did you enjoy interacting with Ivan? Or being Francis's personal whor-"

"Gilbert, I'm warning you, leave Francis out of this…"

"But…!"

"Don't say his name anymore, please."

…

"…I…I just don't get it."

"yes," a sigh "I know you don't."

"So you really love them, don't you? Enough to throw away the future you've been craving since you were eight."

"I guess I do."

It was the middle of the night, Arthur thought they were sound asleep in their room. But they weren't, they were just behind the door.

Alfred and Matthew had heard everything.

* * *

><p><em>And when the knife pierced his skin, embedded it's cold steel into his stomach, he was beyond terrified that his brothers would walk in on that exact moment.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>At thirteen, Alfred decided Arthur had a bad taste in friends<strong>

Matthias.

Arthur had never really took his friends home until Matthias. Alfred didn't know what changed but one day he was there, sitting by the kitchen table when Matthew and himself came out of school. He introduced himself.

_Matthias._

The absolute and total opposite of Arthur in every single way imaginable, Alfred had no idea how such different people could become friends but it had happened (years later Alfred found out one thing they had in common; they loved to drink).

Arthur liked him, laughed around him and let him come over whenever he wanted.

Matthew liked him too, he liked the man's jokes and funny stories, and the fact that he was a policeman. Matthew found this terribly exciting.

Alfred absolutely hated Matthias. It was not that the man was mean to him, that he offended him or even because the man had a distaste for hamburgers (who doesn't like hamburgers? It just wasn't natural!).

No, little Alfred was jealous.

Matthias was a jerk

A phony

A fake

And it took three months, fifty candied apples, two baseball bats, three 'serious' talks with Arthur, Matthew's pleading eyes, Matthias's pleading eyes and for Arthur to kick Matthias between the legs (because Matthias had said something mean) for Alfred to change his mind.

Because Matthias sure was persistent.

Especially when it came to Arthur.

* * *

><p>"<em>Run." <em>

_He didn't know the exact reason why he said It, but the fact remained that he didn't regret saying that one word._

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred decided that Arthur was embarrassing at fourteen.<strong>

Saying things like cheerio and blimey wasn't cool and certainly wasn't something Alfred wanted his fellow classmates to hear. No, It wasn't him, or that he was being a 'bloody teenager' it REALLY was Arthur.

For instance when Alfred wanted a simple house party in honour of him getting a cute girlfriend. The Briton just looked at him and told him that, sure, Alfred could have a house party, If he didn't mind that Arthur himself would wander around butt naked, telling everybody about the times he wetted his bed and ultimately calling the police to complain about the noise, thus having the party broken up.

Or the time when several of his friends came over and Arthur was busy putting out the fire in the kitchen, the whole house smelling like burned and rotten eggs

Or the time he just kicked Alfred OUT OF BED at freaking ELEVEN in the MORNING because Matthew had let it slip Alfred was failing literature, which prompted many tutoring sessions with Arthur himself.

Or the time Arthur had gotten really drunk with some colleagues, and they all started to sing and dance in the middle of the street. Of course Alfred and his friends just _then_ walking past.

Neither did he appreciate Arthur cheering him on at his first football game (the American football) his voice loud and clear, yelling things like 'Go Alfred, M'boy!', 'That not right! Judge! Give him red!' and his least favourite; 'DON'T MATTER YOU LOST, ALFIE! YOU'RE STILL MY HERO!'

No, Alfred certainly didn't appreciate Arthur coming to his first game…

…Except that he did.

* * *

><p><em>Pain took over his body before it became completely numb, green eyes staring blankly ahead <em>

* * *

><p><strong>And at the ripe age of fifteen, Alfred decided that Arthur was a midget.<strong>

Arthur had always been Matthew's and Alfred's 'big brother' but Alfred began to realize that his brother wasn't so 'big' at all. It had happened when the three of them had gone shopping for new clothes. Arthur in the lead and the two twins dutifully following, now, off course Alfred had said something stupid or rude (like he did so many times) and Arthur whirled around to scold him. Alfred had steeled himself for the lecture that would rain down on him and Matthew rolled his eyes at him for his stupid remark. Well, when Arthur had been busy chewing him out, telling him to _look at him when he was talking_, Alfred had noticed something;

He had to look _down_

Both Alfred and Matthew were healthy young boys, and as many healthy young boys there was a time when you shot up in length in a short period of time. That summer vacation, both had done just that; though Matthew remained the shorter of the two, and Alfred was proud to be the tallest…

But there, standing in the middle of the road carrying all kinds of bags filled with new clothes…

Alfred realised that both Matthew and him had outgrown their older brother.

Furthermore, There really weren't many (adult) people who seemed to be shorter than Arthur.

Thus Arthur was named a midget.

And Alfred was yelled at again.

* * *

><p><em>His fingers grabbed the pendant that was hanging around his neck.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>When he was sixteen, Alfred crowned Arthur 'best big brother in the world'.<strong>

It had all started with Kiku, the foreign exchange student.

With his glossy black hair, his petite figure, his soft full lips… Yes it had all started when Alfred had first caught sight of the Japanese beauty, because with all off Kiku's gentleness and beauty one thing definitely stood out;

Kiku wasn't a girl, and Alfred, for reasons unknown, was attracted to him. A lot. More than he had ever been attracted to anyone in his entire life. Now, this really didn't make very much sense to Alfred; he had been quite convinced that he liked girls.

But, one thing led to another and without the both of them really knowing what the hell happened, they were already half-naked behind a bush in a public park, police handcuffing them and being told that they were being charged with indecent exposer.

They were mocked and yelled at, manhandled in the car (Alfred had been sure to keep Kiku as much as possible out of harm's way). It seemed that the policemen who had taken them in had a real problem with their activities (Translate; they were homophobes), and without much reason too, they were locked up in a little cell situated in the police station and told that they had to either be bailed out or could spent the following two nights in the cold cell.

It took Arthur only ten minutes to arrive, out-of breath, red faced and very, very pissed off.

Yes, Alfred had never seen Arthur as furious as he was at that very moment and for a second he had been truly afraid he had made a mistake in calling his brother. But as second later, Alfred realized that Arthur wasn't angry at _them_.

The Briton had started off calm, asking the officers that had escorted him to the cell (and had taken them in) why they had deemed it necessary to lock-up two underage boys in a cell for criminals, rapists and killers. The voice had send shivers down Alfred's and Kiku's spines and they could clearly see the two officers becoming very, very uncomfortable.

When their answer wasn't very satisfying, Arthur had absolutely lost it.

Lost. It.

Alfred had never, ever, seen Arthur as terrifying as he had seen him then. Even though the two other policemen were at least a head taller, a lot more muscled and had easy access to a gun, they seemed to be scared shitless. And who could really blame them? Arthur was practically spewing fire. He told them (loudly) he wanted to see the one in charge. He would sue them, the police station, the whole fucking state if the two of them (Alfred and Kiku) weren't released immediately.

Shocked on by all the ruckus and yelling, the head of the department came and with many apologies (because they really didn't want to get sued), opened the cell door. Kiku and Alfred were free again.

Arthur grabbed both their hands in his, one dragging Kiku and the other Alfred, and without another word marched straight out of the building and into his car.

The car ride was made in silence, Kiku was dropped off and far sooner than Alfred had hoped, they were already in their living room, a cold cup of tea on the coffee-table and a discarded paper on the sofa; Arthur must've enjoyed one of those few moments for himself when the phone had rang. Matthew wasn't there, spending the weekend with one of his friends. Alfred took a seat on the sofa, and declined Arthur's offer to make tea, still extremely nervous and scared what Arthur was going to say about the nights events.

A few moments later, A steaming cup of coffee was put in front of him with a small 'tap' and Arthur, teacup in hand, took a seat next to him. Then Arthur opened his mouth and Alfred was convinced he was going to get it now, Arthur had never been lenient about breaking the rules and he had just been picked up from a police station… for indecent exposure… with a boy…

"I noticed a bruise, are you okay, Alfred?"

No yelling? No angry words? Not even a speck of irritation in his voice?

Who was this man and what had he done with his brother?

"I-I'm okay…" Alfred told Arthur "A-aren't you mad at me?"

Soft, warm fingers had lifted a lock of his hair so green eyes could inspect the bruise on his forehead, surprisingly gentle, those same fingers brushed past the bruise, inspecting if Alfred really was okay.

"I'm not mad at you, the police should've just picked you up and escort you to my doorstep, instead they made you and Kiku spent time in a _cell._" Those fingers retreated, but green eyes were still observing him intently "That wasn't right."

"But w-what about…the reason I was a-arrested…w-what about…Kiku?" Alfred wended off his gaze, not able to look the older man in the eye.

"…Was this the first time?" Arthur asked, both knowing what he meant "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I-I was just, just…" Alfred voice broke off, not knowing how to continue, still looking down at his feet.

"Confused? Scared?" Arthur guessed "It's okay Alfred, you didn't do anything wrong."

Alfred couldn't believe his ears, how could Arthur just accept this. When Alfred had been little, he had often heard from his father how wrong it was to love someone from the same gender "But don't you think it's wrong? Kiku is a boy! A boy! Doesn't that make me… you know… gay?"

"What it means or makes you is entirely up to you, Alfred, whether this is a faze, a crush or the way you've been born is for you to decide, nobody else, not those policemen nor me…" Arthur signed "But I want you to know… It isn't wrong, it will never be wrong, it won't change anything for me and I know your brother wouldn't mind either."

"But I'll be…" His vision blurred, a second later Alfred found himself in a tight embrace. Arthur having grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down, Alfred slightly bent because of their height difference (even when they were sitting down) head now in the crook of the others shoulder.

It felt good, safe, loved.

"You'll be different. There's nothing wrong with that" Arthur whispered in his ear "but I'm not going to lie, it will not make your life easier, there will always be those people who won't accept you… If you really are gay, and when this happens… I want you to know you can always turn to me… I'm your big brother after all… and I'll always protect you"

A chocked sob "Arthur…"

"Besides," Arthur untangled himself and grinned up at him "You're not the only one who misbehaved in their teen years."

At that moment Alfred decided that although Arthur could be controlling, temperamentfull and embarrassingly polite, he was still the best older brother in the world.

* * *

><p><em>In the end, he had let a good life… He could be proud…<em>

* * *

><p><strong>At seventeen, Alfred was sick of Arthur's overly protective attitude.<strong>

At four in the morning, Alfred stumbled into the house. He had just come from a wild party which had been hosted by one of his friends who seemed to have an unlimited supply of alcohol in his basement. Needless to say, they had all become pretty plastered but although Alfred's night had started really good, he was now drunk, cold and in a very sore mood; he had said some pretty stupid things because of the high alcohol percentage in his blood and had therefor pissed his boyfriend off, like, a whole lot. So no, the night hadn't ended well, neither did he appreciate his bike being stolen; which meant he had to walk the whole way to his home, in the cold winter weather.

Slightly cursing, Alfred barely managed to open the front door, first fumbling with the keys; not being able to find the right one. Finally, he stumbled into the living room, and almost immediately looked into angry green eyes.

"Where the _hell _have you been?"

Alfred groaned; Arthur. "p-piss off, B-bro… 'm tired"

"Are you _drunk_?" Arthur's voice sounded very angry, but Alfred really didn't have the energy to deal with Arthur right about now. So he pushed past Arthur and tried to walk to the stairs, so he could reach his room and crawl up and sleep, yes! sweet sleep.

Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't letting him off the hook; before Alfred had even made it past his brother he was grabbed by the sleeve. "Where do you think you're going? You can't even walk straight! I've been worrying all night, you didn't even call! And your brother, I practically had to force him to go to bed!"

Alfred tried a weak attempt to pull himself free, but Arthur was holding his sleeve quite tight. "P-piss off, Arthur," He repeated "I'm not in the mood."

Kiku had asked him where he'd been

Kiku's angry face when Alfred had insulted him.

Kiku's devastated expression when Alfred had been caught red-handed, in bed with two girls and a bottle of vodka. Alfred hadn't even been able to explain himself; his boyfriend had already run away.

The words Kiku had shouted into his face when he finally caught up.

Geez, he had fucked up big time.

Fucking awful night.

Wasn't at all in the mood for Arthur's whiny bitching.

But there Arthur continued to stand, in all his annoying glory; clad in the outfit he'd always weared for bed, an oversized shirt with French gibberish on it (Where had he even got that awful shirt?) and old baggy pyjama pants under it.

Lecturing him. Again.

"I don't care you're not in the mood, you'll damn well listen to me!"

Alfred had had it, all those rules and regulations, he was seventeen for god's sake! Arthur wasn't his father! He could damn well come to the house at any time _he _desired, he wasn't obligated to call in! He wasn't obligated to do anything Arthur demanded from him!

"Are you listening to me, Alfred?"

Tonight had been awful, he just wanted rest, peace. He wanted to rest his head on his cushion and just let unconsciousness take over. He wanted that tomorrow everything would be okay again, that he would be greeted by his boyfriend's loving kisses when he arrived at school, that his friends weren't angry at him a anymore, that everything from this night could've been forgotten! If Arthur could just get off his case this one time!

"Alfred?"

His teeth clenched

"Let. Me. Go." Alfred all but sneered

"Let you go? Have you any idea how much trouble you're in? Are you even listening to me? Alfred J. Jones, look at me when I'm talking! Do you even know-"

"JUST SHUT UP!" Alfred exploded, right into Arthur's face, who seemed surprised and unconsciously took a step back "For ONCE will you shut the hell up?"

"What are you…"

"Alfred, do this, don't do that! Can't you for once leave me the fuck alone?"

"Alfred! Stop shouting, I'm your older brother and you will listen to me!"

"NO!" Alfred screamed, alcohol feeding his anger, it boiled into him, he was just so sick of everything! He just wanted to go to bed for god's sake! Why must Arthur always ruin everything? He wildly pushed his arm free, forgetting someone half his size was gripping it, to absorbed into his anger to hear the shriek of fear and the crash of something breaking. He was free at last, that was all he cared about. "Who asked you to be my brother? What gives you the right to demand things from me? You're nothing! Just some _stray _MY father decided to let in-"

"ALFRED!" An incredibly angry and shocked voice broke him off "What the hell do you think you're doing?" and that's what snapped him out of his alcohol induced rage, Matthew's voice, which always sounded gentle and kind, was now furious.

What really seemed to sober him up instantly, however, was the sight he took in after that. Arthur was on the ground, head down, hair obscuring his eyes, a small trail of blood from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Broken cabinet behind him.

It took Alfred a second to realise that _he _was the one that'd done that.

And as Matthew kneeled by his big brother, cold gripped through him, what had he done? What had he said? What had even happened?  
>"…Arthur?"<p>

A moment of silence, before Arthur's head lifted and Alfred was once again staring into those green eyes, but this time around, they were completely unreadable.

"This is what happens when you drink too much and you can't handle it" Arthur had slowly gotten up, waving Matthew away, who wanted to help him stand up "you lose control off yourself."

"Arthur, I'm so sor-" Alfred tried to speak, but he got interrupted.

"Your breathing seemed to be in order, before you started yelling anyway. But have you been vomiting?"

"What? No-"

"Are you abnormally cold?"

"The weather outside is cold, but no, me myself isn't-"

"Have you drunken any water before coming here?"

"Well, yeah, Toris made me-"

"Are you seeing double?"

"No-" Alfred flinched, Arthur had unexpectedly moved, and raised his hand. Alfred, although his older brother had never before raised a hand on either off them, thought he was getting a good slap. But no, the hand came to rest (almost gently) on his forehead and those green eyes took his blue ones in with immense concentration, almost if he was searching for something.

Three seconds passed, before Arthur withdrew and stepped back.

"You don't seem to have alcohol poisoning" He said "Drink a glass of water before you go to sleep, we don't want you to be dehydrated."

"Arthur…"

"We'll discuss this in the morning Alfred." his voice sounded colder than ever before "Now go to bed."

"But…"

"Go to bed, Alfred, I'm not repeating myself a third time."

They never spoke of that night again.

* * *

><p><em>Because he knew…<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred was eighteen when he and Matthew graduated, Arthur watching them proudly.<strong>

Alfred was the more sociable one and Matthew the one who focused on his studies, but both of them had made it; Alfred just barely while Matthew was valedictorian, but still, they had both made it. They had a bright future in store for them, both already being accepted at a college and were blessed with friend, family and, in Alfred's case, also love.

Just before the ceremony began, and the hall was filling with parents and family members, Alfred and Kiku took a moment to look each other in the eye and share a short kiss.

"Oh Kiku! I see your parents! O and Arthur is there too!" Matthew informed them, while he was nervously peering through the curtain (he had a whole speech to do, he had every right to be nervous).

"Artie there already?"

"Yes, Matthias is there too! O my god! What if I mess up?"

"Don't worry drama queen, you'll do perfect."

And indeed he did, the ceremony went without a hitch, Matthew's speech went flawlessly, Alfred managed to not fall over his own legs while accepting his diploma and Arthur thoroughly embarrassed them by shouting praises at the top off his longs.

It was a good day, one that would be remembered for the rest of Alfred's life.

Because not long after that day, their little family of three was forever ripped apart.

* * *

><p><em>Even if it wasn't much…he had made a difference<em>

* * *

><p><strong>The day everything was perfectly normal, changed everything.<strong>

They both had started running through the house, shouting their brother's name. But, in the end, Alfred had been the first to notice the open bedroom door; a red handprint on it. He hadn't wasted a second, he had barged into the room, ready to protect his brother, just like his brother had protected them so many times before.

Arthur's body was lying face down on the ground, he was wearing that awful oversized shirt with the French gibberish on it, those baggy, ugly, pyjama pants. His hair was in complete disarray, his feet were bare.

He was soaked in blood.

He must've been peacefully drinking tea when some bastard had tried to attack him, Alfred knew Arthur must've fought like a lion. But the attacker had finally gotten to him in the bedroom.

He was too late.

Alfred led out a terrible sound, one which he had never known he could make, and fell on his knees. Quickly he grabbed his older brother and turned him around, so he was laying in Alfred's lap.

Bruises on his face, on his arms, and a gaping hole in the middle off his stomach.

His eyes were closed, but his chest was still moving up and down.

"ARTHUR!" Alfred pleaded "While he pressed on the wound "PLEASE WAKE UP! MATTHEW! MATTHEW! CALL 911!"

The blood continued flowing, soaking his hands, his clothes, everything. But he didn't care, he didn't care about anything but his green-eyed, stubborn, midget off a brother. His brother, who was slowly bleeding out, in front of his very eyes.

"Arthur! Come on, open those green eyes of yours, please!" Alfred choked in his desperate sobs, tears blurring his vision. When he heard a shocked gasp from the doorway, he looked up.

Matthew, completely frozen, eyes trained on Arthur, telephone in hand.

"Don't just stand there, CALL THEM!" Alfred screamed, before once again turning to the unmoving bundle in his lap "Arthur, Artie, come on! I'll never disobey you again, just open your eyes! Just…"

Alfred clenched his eyes shut, this couldn't been happening, it just couldn't.

Then he felt it, on his hands which were putting pressure on the wound.

A touch.

He opened his eyes and saw Arthurs hand resting on top off his, immediately Alfred moved his gaze to Arthur's face.

Green stared back at him.

"Arthur…?" Alfred swallowed "J-just hold on, okay? We'll get y-you out of this, M-Matthew's already calling a ambulance."

Arthur's mouth curled into a tiny smile, and Arthur's hand moved from his hands upwards, towards his face, where it lightly stroked his cheek.

"A-Alf…red."

Alfred quickly laid one of his hand on Arthur's preventing it from falling. "Don't talk, we'll get you safe again! Just stay with me, okay?"

"I…'m…N-not g-go…ing t-to make…it…Alfred" Arthur barely seemed to get out.

"Y-yes you are! Just hold tight! The ambulance will be here any second! Please, try to hold on!"

His tears were falling on the Briton's forehead, cleaning away some of the blood that had nestled there. "I-I love…you-ou…a-and y-your…b-brother…very m-much."

"No." He was shaking his head, feeling Arthur's heartbeat slowing "D-Don't you fucking _dare…_ Y-you've c-come into m-my life and now you're damn well s-staying!"

Alfred desperately turned his gaze to his twin, who still stood in the doorway, telephone at his ear, tears streaming silently down his face. "MATTHEW, HELP ME! Help m-me s-stop the b-bleeding!"

But Matthew didn't move, it seemed that he already knew that it was too late, he kept standing there motionless, a desperate look on his face.

"MATTHEW! NOW! CO-"

Alfred looked down again, the hand on his cheek had twitched, and green eyes bored into his blue ones. "B-be n-nice…to…your…B-brother…A-Alfred J. J-Jones…" A ragged cough interrupted Arthur, his eyes were becoming duller and duller. "'M p-proud."

"ARTHUR!"

Arthur seemed to be looking far into the distance, seeming to remember something, something only he could see. "T-to think…I-I'll…b-be a-able…to s…s-see…y-you a-again…"

A lone tear fell but the smile stayed

"F-Francis…"

"ARTHUR!"

Yes, he had been too late, there was nothing he could do when Arthurs hand fell from his cheek, when Arthurs head lulled sideways and when all the life disappeared from those beautiful green eyes.

Nothing at all.

Alfred desperately clutched his big brother's body while he sobbed his heart out.

* * *

><p><em>And he had been loved<em>

* * *

><p>Who was Francis? Why had Arthur moved in with their family? Why had his mother disliked the green eyed boy? Where exactly did Arthur come from? Why had he left that place?<p>

Who had attacked him? Who had killed him?

Alfred didn't know the answer to any of these questions…

…but he was determent to find out.

* * *

><p><em>Wasn't that all he could ever ask for?<em>

End

* * *

><p>Hope you liked it!<p>

I'm still trying to decide wether I should leave it as a one-shot or make an actual story... I've got something in my mind... so I'll think about it ;)

Please review, seriously, they make me so damn happy!

Extra note; after reading your wonderful reviews (which were wonderfull BTW) It's come to my attention that I'm not very good at punctuation, I've tried to correct this as good as possible, but english isn't my native language, so I'm sure not all is correct; so I'll be looking for a beta. (A special thanks for kinoko for the tips he/she gave me)


	2. Matthew, Matthias and Alfred

_So yeah, I've decided to give this story a try, I hope it will work out!_

_The previous chapter will be the pronologue._

_BTW, THANKS so much for all the wonderfull reviews! Oh and I'm still looking for a beta, somebody interested?_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 1<em>**

**_Matthias, Matthew and Alfred_**

On a rainy Saturday afternoon, Arthur was placed in a grave next to his father. Alfred didn't remember much of that day, that whole day had been fuzzy in his mind and blurred in front of his eyes. He was later told that the ceremony had been beautiful, that many people had showed up to pay their last respects, that even the sky had seemed to be weeping for the loss of his beloved brother. He couldn't for the life off him remember these things, neither the words spoken at the church nor the faces of all those present nor the cold rain on his skin. The only thing he could clearly remember about that day was how much this funeral reminded him of the one his parents had, he had been in a same state then, blankly staring ahead, trying to deny the truth, not wanting to accept the reality. Yes, in many ways Arthur's funeral was the same as that one so many years ago, but there were two noticeable differences;

Standing there, watching as his brother disappeared in front of his eyes, his twin next to him breaking down; Alfred himself couldn't cry, not one tear. Maybe he had used them all up the night he'd seen Arthur bleed to death, maybe there was nothing to cry about anymore, maybe he was just so cold-hearted he couldn't even squeeze out one little tear at his own brothers funeral.

Whatever the case, Alfred just stood there, watching, as history repeated itself and yet again, he had to say goodbye far too soon. Only this time, there wasn't even that reassuring hand in his, which could've given him the drive and courage to face this cruel world yet again.

Not long after that, the police dropped Arthur's case, deeming it a simple burglary gone terribly wrong. The evidence had been looked at, papers had been filled, everybody questioned; the police was unable to crack it and tossed it away, giving Arthur's attacker the chance to escape with his terrible crime unpunished. No closure, no nothing. The police didn't do jack-shit, Alfred would never forgive them for giving up so easily.

Although they had to leave it for some time when it was still considered a crime scene, Matthew and Alfred returned to the home they'd grew up in, and decided to keep living there. It was one of the only things the two could agree on; it seemed like an invisible barrier had been placed between them, one they could not cross. They did not talk. When they _did_ notice each other it was to fight and argue…although, mostly Alfred was the one doing the shouting and yelling while Matthew could break the other down with silently vicious remarks, so well placed that the never silent Alfred was often rendered speechless. It was strange, they had always been different, but only now it became apparent how different they really were. In the aftermath of the rush to the hospital, the funeral, the police investigation and their general grieve, they seemed to have lost sight of each other, creating a huge rift between the twins. One that could not easily be crossed. Though, Alfred had to admit, it had partly been his own fault, in the beginning, just after all that had happened, Matthew had tried to reach out, had tried the grab his hand to share their grief; but Alfred had pushed him away. Neither of them tried to help each other after that.

But as stated before, the one thing they could both agree on was the desire to stay in that house. Alfred didn't really know why he wanted to life in a house that caused him such a considerable trauma and he also didn't know why Matthew agreed with Alfred's loud exclamation that he wanted to go back, but he did and so they came to live in their home again. Though neither of them dared to take one step into Arthur's bedroom again; the door remained closed.

Matthias was great, Alfred had to admit this, the man helped them out and tried to take care of them in his own way. He planned the funeral, was there when they were questioned and was able to pull a few strings so that the house remained theirs. Matthias also decided to move in with them for a while, just to help them out with their grieve and anger. He told them he promised Arthur he would take care of the two of them if something happened and he did just that. Though at that point, Alfred couldn't really care less, he was to focused on his own life to notice anybody else.

Grief is handled differently.

Matthew became overly neat and motherly. He would spend hours cleaning and dusting and tidying things up. He insisted he'd cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry etc. Matthew didn't grant himself one moment to relax, to think, to reload. He was busy, busy, busy. All day long. He studied a lot too, buried himself into paperwork and books. He was always doing something useful or helping someone out.

Alfred was the complete opposite, he retreated completely into his own world. If he wasn't sitting in his room listening to loud music and smoking tobacco he was outside going to every party that was in the vicinity. He was rude and mean to anyone, didn't listen to Matthias when he reprimanded him and seemed to completely forget he had a boyfriend. At one point, after finding a drunken Alfred yet again making out with someone else, Kiku finally had enough and left.

Matthias truly tried everything to help the two brothers, but with all his friendliness and charisma, he wasn't the one they wanted, he wasn't Arthur. He tried to make Matthew relax, he tried to reprimand every time Alfred came home drunk. But nothing seemed to work, they tolerated him, but they certainly didn't listen to him, though Alfred remained the worst; he was rude, obnoxious and sometimes even endangered his own health. Of course, Matthias had his own grief to deal with too; Arthur had been his best friend, his comrade, but the only way he could go on was to honour Arthur's wish. So he couldn't leave the difficult situation, he couldn't just walk away, Arthur would've never forgiven him. So he tried, send the boys to a psychiatrist, locked Alfred's door when he wanted to go out again, forced Matthew to take five seconds to relax. Matthias just couldn't accept that he was failing at the task Arthur had appointed to him.

And so it went on for three months, the only change in the situation was that college began, which Matthew attended, but Alfred had given up on (no matter how much Matthias complained about it), but one Saturday night, everything changed.

Alfred was lying on his bed, doing absolutely nothing but listening to music, he was alone in the house; Matthew was out studying with some classmates and Matthias was working an important case. Alfred was aware that in about two hours a house party would start a few blocks from there and he had every intention to go; he was so going to crash it! But first, he could kill for a couple of drinks, _unfortunately_, Matthias had gotten rid of the liquor in the house. _But fortunately_, Alfred knew that Matthias had only wanted Alfred to believe the alcohol was gone, and hid his own personal stash. In the attic.

Grinning at his own brilliance, Alfred exited his room and walked the stairs to the attic. The attic was quite big and full of old stuff, none of them really used it much; it was more like a storage room than an attic. It was big, with a filthy rug decorating the floor and high shelves on the wall. And there, on the highest shelve stood a big brown box. Alfred grinned again, Matthias was so gullible to believe Alfred wouldn't be able to find out where the liquor was stored! Just last week, Alfred had seen Matthias take that box to the attic, at the same time the alcohol was removed. Alfred wasn't a rocket scientist, but he wasn't an idiot either, that box undoubtedly contained sweet delicious mind-numbing goodness and he was going to get it.

Alfred confidently grabbed a chair and placed it under the shelf, then in one swift motion he moved to stand on it. The chair creaked and protested but held. If he put his arms up and reached he could just touch the box, but just when he had a firm hold, the chair ominously creaked again and before Alfred could even shift his position, it broke with a very loud creak, causing Alfred and the box which he held -not so tightly- to fall onto the floor with a loud bang.

Groaning, Alfred sat up, caressing his bum; that was going to leave a serious mark, it hurt like a bitch.

"Damn it!" He yelled in frustration. "Can't I ever catch a break?"

Then he realized something.

The box had made a suspiciously tame sound for it to be filled with bottles of alcohol. Frowning, Alfred looked next to him were the box lay.

"_Fuck." _

He should've known he would be screwed over, the box was on its side, contents spilling out, and it sure as hell weren't bottles that were spilling out, no, it was just some lame papers and binders. He should've known Matthias would be more secretive about his stash, damn it all to hell! Angry, he slapped the box away from him, making more stuff spill out. After that he went to sulk on the floor, knees bend and his arms over them. He was feeling crappy again, the kind of crappy that was treatable with alcohol, to be denied the delicious beverage was just plain cruel. No matter how much Matthias preached that it was bad for him, what did that jackass know anyway?

Right then, something shiny caught the corner of his eye. Curious, Alfred turned towards the papers that were spilled across the floor. He could see something silver shining beneath them. Slowly he crawled to the object, fishing it out from the papers.

His eyes widened.

It was Arthur's.

Arthur's pendant, the one he never took off.

What was it doing here? Why wasn't it buried with Arthur?

His eyes fell back to the papers, Then he froze.

Statements, blueprints, suspect lists; the police reports from Arthur's murder.

What the hell was Matthias thinking?

Shaking, Alfred looked to the binder that was lying a little away from him. He grabbed it.

ARTHUR KIRKLAND

The whole map was filled with Arthur's personal information, report cards, bank transactions, solicitations, even personal letters. Surprised, Alfred looked at the different documents; what was Matthias doing with all these? Why was he collecting all Arthur's information? Some pages seemed to be marked, turning the page to the first mark, Alfred eyes widened. It was Arthur's handwriting; a letter it seemed, with some sentences underlined. Alfred quickly began reading.

_Dearest Matthias,_

_I hope you'll never read this letter for it would mean that I met an untimely end. If you're reading this; I'm sorry I couldn't hold on, whichever reason that may have been. I'm also sorry that I couldn't return you feelings, I know I never gave you a solid reason and it pains me to admit that the answers to your questions will be buried with me; __it's simply too hard for me to talk about my teenage years__. But I want you to know it had nothing to do with you … You've always been a very good friend to me and I'm happy I met you. But most of all, I'm sorry for the burden I'm about to lay on you…_

_I asked you once what you would do if I were to die, you remember right? I hope you meant what you said back then, because I intent to make full use of your offer. _

_Please, take care of Alfred and Matthew in my place. I don't know how old they will be when you read this, but please, do what's necessarily so that they can deal with my dead. I know my brothers, I know they will not deal with this thing the right way, they will not attempt to properly grieve, in fact, they will do everything but that. Please, I beg of you, try to help them anyway you can; they've already lost too much, I do not want them to lose their future too. By the way, you've got my blessing to whoop their butts if they are too rude, especially Alfred! Don't let him walk all over you now!_

_I know I never talked much about my time in Great Britain and I'm sorry if that made you feel insecure about our relationship, I never meant for that. The only thing I'm able to tell you is that I was happy there once, but circumstances made my life very unpleasant. _

_Please, I know you, __don't go looking into my past__; leave it alone. What's done is done, you can't bring me back. __My mother lives in London under the name of Elizabeth White, please tell her what's become of me._

_You take care now, find a good wife or husband, bloody commit for a change._

_I wish for you to be happy._

_I'll miss you__, and the boys too; be sure to tell them that._

_Arthur._

…

He was not going to cry, he was not.

What did it matter anyway? Arthur was gone! What did some crappy letter really mean? Not a damn thing! Arthur had left them and left behind a cheap imitation of his brother to take care of them… _Take care_ of them; they were old enough to take care of themselves! This letter; full of bull, it didn't matter anymore. Who was Arthur kidding?

How could he think they would be fine after he died?

How could he think some stupid letter with instructions to Matthias would make any difference in the way his death would be dealt with?

'_take care of Alfred and Matthew in my place'_

Who was he fucking kidding?

He wouldn't cry.

Hand shaking, Alfred moved the page to the second marker. It was the suspect list, all the names crossed off. Alfred snapped the binder closed, he had seen enough; he had wanted to get drunk not be confronted with his death older brother. What was Matthias doing with these documents? Had he some sick obsession with his brother?

Or…

Was he trying to find out the truth about his green-eyed tight-lipped fool of a brother?

"I should have expected this…"

Recognizing the voice, Alfred slowly turned around. In the door opening stood Matthias, his big shoulders slumped and his expression saddened.

"Matthias…What is all this?"

Matthias took two steps forward, before crouching and taking the binder from his hands, then he rose again, looking down on him.  
>"You know what this is Alfred." Matthias turned around, walking back towards the doorway. "Come with me to the kitchen."<p>

Alfred obediently followed after the tall man. Yes, he knew what Matthias was doing, he should've guessed Matthias wouldn't give up on Arthur's murder without a fight. He should've known. Matthias always was persistent when it came to his brother.

Silently, Alfred went to sit by the kitchen table, watching as the depressed looking giant began to make some coffee. Wicked, he seriously needed some caffeine right about now. A short while later, both had steaming cups of (delicious) coffee in front of them. Alfred sipped his and sneaked a glance at the man in front of him. "So…are you going to explain to me why you have a whole binder of super-personal/inappropriate information about my big brother? "

"I never intended for you to find out…"

"That you're a creepy stalker?"

"Quit it Alfred, I'm too tired to listen to your childishness."

Alfred looked up at Matthias; he really did look tired. It must've been a few hard months for him too. But it was his own fault really, Alfred reasoned with himself, he was the one that offered to take care of them. No matter what Arthur had written in that letter; ultimately it had been Matthias's own choice.

But now…

"Your still looking for his killer aren't you?" Alfred asked the older man, voice for once dead serious. "You haven't given up." _Like I thought you did, like I did…_

Matthias nodded slowly. "I couldn't believe that his case was abandoned so easily, I know you hated me for that, Alfred, hated me for just giving up like that. It's probably part of the reason why you've been such an insufferable asshole lately-"

"Hey!"

"I started gathering information about your brother, his life here in America is pretty traceable, but his life before he came here… I know almost nothing."

Alfred perked up. "Almost?"

"That letter, he mentioned his mother in that letter, I've managed to trace her down. She lives in the outer parts of London… I don't know anyone here who would've wanted to hurt Arthur, but the way he was murdered was distinctly personal. I think that by figuring out his past we might find the killer… and if not… maybe we'll find out a little more about the life you father took him away from."

"How can we be sure that his killer is in Arthur's past?"

Matthias looked into Alfred's eyes. "Arthur told me."

* * *

><p><em>Broadly grinning Matthias slammed Arthur's font door open (without so much as a knock) and walked briskly to the living room. But, hearing the commotion, Arthur already came running. <em>

"_Bloody hell, Matthias! Would it kill you to ring the doorbell, you almost gave me a heart attack."_

_Matthias laughed. "Don't pop a vein, Arthur! Relax! I thought it would be a good idea for us to go hit the bars!"_

_Arthur looked at him as if he had just suggested to go to a Justin Bieber concert "It's two in the bloody afternoon on a bloody Sunday. Are you off your rocker?" huffing, Arthur turned and walked back to his living room, Matthias followed (still grinning like hell) and went to sit by the kitchen table, dimly playing with the tablecloth while Arthur went to the counter to make some tea._

"_Alfred's right, Mr Killjoy; you need to remove that stick up your ass."_

_Arthur turned and glared. "Don't be vulgar, idiot. No wonder Alfred has adapted such a shameless vocabulary, he's been listening to you for god knows how long!"_

_Matthias shrugged. "The boy has a knack for finding things to irritate you with." Arthur grumbled while pouring hot water into two cups. "By the way, where are the two rascals?"_

"_Alfred's with Kiku; I really don't want to know what they're doing."_

"_Eeeeew"_

"_Quite, Matthew's with that Cuban exchange student, helping him with homework. He's such a little angel!" Arthur smiled fondly while he placed two cups on the table._

"_Did you just squeal?"_

"_I did no such thing."_

"_You do realize he's taller and broader than you are?"_

"_Shut it."_

_Just then, the sound of an incoming fax was heard (yes, Arthur still owned a fax machine). Matthias had to snicker about that; although the short blonde haired man was not even thirty years old, he sometimes(always) acted like an cranky old man. _

_Maybe it was something British… then again, it could also just be Arthur._

_Matthias frowned when he saw the other stiffen while he was reading the fax. The blonde's hand that was holding the paper began to shake (in hurt? Anger? Fear?) and his face became a tad paler._

"_Arthur? What is it?"_

_The man didn't answer, his eyes still trained on whatever was written on that piece of paper._

"_Arthur?"_

_No response._

_Now he was getting worried, Matthias stood from his stool and tried once again to get his friend's attention. "Arthur!"_

_Surprised as if he had just now realized Matthias was in the room with him, Arthur's head shot up. His eyes were blank and unreadable but his face was still pale. "…Yes?"_

"_Don't 'yes' me!" he said. "What's wrong?"_

_Arthur seemed to freeze for a moment, before a small smile found its way on his face, and he happily waved the paper. "Nothing's wrong, Matthias! Just a letter from an old friend, someone… someone from my time in England. It's good to hear from him again!"_

_His voice sounded joyful, his eyes were shining gleefully and his smile stretched over his whole face._

_To Matthias, it wasn't hard to see that Arthur was faking it._

_And when Matthias, several hours later, fisted the piece of paper from the trash can, he could see what had shocked Arthur so badly._

'_This is your last chance Arthur. Give me what I want, I'm not going to ask again._

_If you don't, you'll surely regret it._

_-AP'_

* * *

><p>Alfred shot up. "He was getting threatened? When?"<p>

Matthias looked down. "A few weeks before the murder. I tried to talk about it to him, but he said it was nothing, just a silly joke between the two. "

"And you believed him?"

"Have you forgotten how persuasive your brother could be?"

Alfred shoulders sagged. "So what now?"

"I'm going to England, I've finally found his mother. I'm going to tell her the news about his dead, from there on, I'll find out the truth."

Alfred looked at the other man, Matthias had changed, no longer all smiles and teasing. Alfred hadn't noticed before, but Arthur's dead had affected him a great deal too. Judging from Arthur's letter, Matthias might've really loved his older brother. It must've been hard, taking care of Matthew and him too.

_Not that Alfred had made it any easier on him, he realized with a stab of guilt._

"Let me go with you."

* * *

><p>Matthew mummed quietly to himself while walking back to his house. Happily swinging the bag of goodies he had picked up on the way home. This study session had gone good, he was doing great in college. Matthew smiled softly to himself, when he got home he should cook something for the two other men; they needed to eat!<p>

After that, maybe he could reorganise the bookcase; Alfred had the habit of messing it all up, not that he often read. But Matthias had complained yesterday that he couldn't find a book, so Matthew would make sure it wouldn't happen again.

It was nice weather for walking, a decent temperature, not to hot, not to cold. It was already dark, the nights sky visible. Matthew smiled softly again and spread his arms, breathing in.

It was all going to be okay.

Finally he made it to his home, unlocking the door he went inside. Matthew removed his shoes from his feet and grabbed the bag, moving to go to the kitchen. He was surprised to hear two voices coming from there; Matthias and Alfred, they weren't even screaming at each other.

Mm strange.

Shrugging, he opened the door and stepped into the (rather small) kitchen. Matthias and Alfred both seemed surprised to see him, (hadn't they heard him come in?) they were sitting at the kitchen table.

Matthew smiled at them. "Good evening, I've gotten groceries, shall I cook something?" without waiting for an answer he turned to the kitchen counter, unpacking the bag.

Really, he was the perfect brother, why was Matthias always complaining?

"Matthew!" Alfred's excited voice spoke up, loud and brash. Matthew whirled around, surprised. Where was the anger? Why was he sounding happy? Matthew hadn't heard the other's voice sound like that since before _his _death … Alfred's face too… Something had changed.

Matthew stiffened when he saw Alfred clutching _that _letter.

"Mattie!" Mattie? Alfred was calling him Mattie again? "We're going to England!"

Matthew staggered on his feet, England? Alfred couldn't possibly be serious!

"…What?"

Matthias signed. "No, tact as usual… You see Matthew-"

"We're going to find the bastard who killed Arthur, Mattie! We're finally going to get the son of a bitch!"

Matthew could almost hear Arthur's 'language' before he fully understood the words his twin was spewing. Matthew frowned, was his brother delusional? "What are you talking about, Alfred? We aren't going to England."

"Yes we are! Listen to me Matthew! This letter." Alfred frantically waved the letter in Matthews face. "It tells us who Arthur's mom is! Matthias has been investigating and,-"

"That letter also says to leave the past be." Matthew's cold voice interrupted.

"-Yeah, but we don't… How do you know that?" Alfred seemed dumbfounded, Matthias was frowning too.

"I've found the binder a few weeks ago, Matthias has been investigating, I know that."

Alfred continued to look at him, speechless. Matthias got up from his seat, still frowning. "You knew?"

Matthew smiled sweetly at him. "You aren't the best at keeping something a secret, uncle Matthias."

Matthias walked towards him. "But if you knew… Why didn't you ask me about it? Weren't you eager to know more about his dead too? Weren't you mad at me for keeping it quiet?"

Matthew's face hardened, the smile slipping from his face. "I am mad, but not because you didn't tell me. I'm mad because you can't let it rest."

"Let it rest?" Alfred cried out. "Don't you want justice?" Alfred shot forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't you want to know what happened?" Blue eyes bored themselves in his, alight with fire; it seemed that Alfred was returning to his old self.

Matthew looked down, hair obscuring his eyes. "Didn't you read the letter?" He asked calmly. "Both of you" he couldn't hide the disdain in his voice. "Didn't you read it?"

"Mattie! You're not making sense,-"

"Didn't he tell you in the letter?" Matthew's face shot up and he wildly slapped Alfred's hands from his shoulders. "_Don't go looking for my past, that's what he wrote!_" He was angry, more angry than he had been in a long while, didn't they understand?

Seeing Alfred's face break out in a relieved grin didn't exactly help temper his anger. "That's all? Mattie, come on, you can't take everything serious what that old geezer said-"

SLAP

Alfred face was slammed to the side by his palm, Matthew knew Alfred hadn't been expecting it; his eyes were wide with surprise. A red mark already forming on his cheek. "You're just too fucking SELFISH! The both of you! After all Arthur has done for us, can't WE give him at least this much! Can't we at least respect his final wishes?"

Alfred slowly turned to his twin. Was this the same Matthew he always had to save from bullies? The same kid who couldn't finish one sentence when in company of strangers? The most gentle boy ever to walk the face of the earth?

"…you hit me." Alfred slowly said, before angrily grabbing the other's shoulders again. "No matter what that letter says, somebody hurt our brother and it's our DUTY to find out WHO! Don't you care? Don't you fucking give a damn about what happened?"

Matthews eyes were spewing fire, he struggled to get free, but Alfred's grip was too strong. In retaliation, he grabbed Alfred's collar. "How dare you insinuate that I don't care! You, who have been doing nothing but destroy this family for the past moths! I'VE been taking care of you! You ungrateful ass!"

"At least it's better than some traitor!"

"Traitor? I'm not a traitor, you are! Telling everyone that you're a hero, when you are a GOOD for NOTHING!"

"At least I CARE!"

"Care? Care! I forget; Who was the one who knocked Arthur down while intoxicated!"

Silence met his statement and Matthew knew he had gone too far. He knew Alfred had never forgiven himself for that night. But he couldn't help it; he was angry, sad, confused.

"You two, stop it." A voice spoke up.

Matthias. They had forgotten about him.

"We are going to England. Because even though Arthur didn't want you to know about his past, first and foremost he wanted you two to be happy. Both of you need closure. We are going to England and both of you will become happy once more."

Matthew turned around, Alfred's hands having fallen limp.

"Matthias…"

"I made a promise." A hand attempted to hide the tears, futile. "And I'm damn well going to keep it."

* * *

><p><em><span>A Letter from you<span>_

_Arthur,_

_I don't like you._

_You're smelly and ugly and you have huge eyebrows!_

_I hope I see you as less as possible._

_Bye,_

_Francis_

_P.S Your wrong, French is a beautiful language!_

* * *

><p><em>I know that the letter from you bit doesn't make much sense now, but it will later!<em>

_I hope you enjoyed it!_

_Please review, I'm not to sure about this story and I would like to have some feedback, whether good or bad._


	3. Miss White and Doctor Maxwell

So... here it is! It really was hard to write! I apologize for the slow updating, but being at the university is very stressful and stuff! Though, buttloads of fun!

But I shal not bore you furter with my AN, no I'll do that at the end, after you read this chapter!

BTW

I do not own anything from Hetalia. At all.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Miss White and Doctor Maxwell**

"This is sooo COOL~!" A very, very loud voice yelled. "Look, look Mattie! A cloud! Can you believe it? It looks so fluffy and soft and… IS THAT A BIRD? Ooooh what a view!"

"Yes Alfred, it's very pretty-" The voice that answered was in total contrast with the cheerful one, quiet, submissive, somewhat invisible…sound wise…

Yeah.

"LOOK AT THAT! YOU CAN SEE THE PLANE'S WING FROM HERE!"

"It's been there the whol-"

"Wouldn't it be totally badass if this plane went down and I'll be like; 'I'll save you all cuz' I'm the hero! 'and then there would be all these snakes in the plane and I could yell out heroic stuff and you would all be totally admiring…ing me, because I would've been the hero and saved you all from a fiery, awful death. Wouldn't it be badass? Wouldn't it Mattie?"

"Yes, Alfred, off course it would."

"I KNOW right? Listen to this! What if-"

At this point in time, Matthias decided to tune out the conversation that was bugging the hell out of him, and probably the whole damn plane. He sighed, it wasn't that he was unhappy that Alfred had somewhat returned to his cheerful older self, instead of his snappish angry alter ego, but Matthias had to admit that he had forgotten exactly how hyper and annoying the boy could be. But regardless, it seemed that the idea that they would uncover Arthur's killer had seriously lifted the boy's spirits. Matthias knew that the boy had not only been sad but angry too, that his brother's death was so easily overlooked by the police. Though Matthias supposed that the sunny boy would never truly return to his older self, the tiniest things seemed to snap the boy back into an angry and depressed mood, the boy's fuse was so incredibly short it was unnerving. Matthew however, hadn't changed in the slightest other that the bitch fest a few days ago, Matthew had returned to his passive (aggressive) attitude and seemed still uncomfortable with the idea of going to London.

But all that really paled in to comparison at his current situation. Because (as Alfred so delicately hinted at) they were in a plane… in the air… thousands of feet in the sky. Matthias clenched his hand on his knees. It wasn't natural, it just wasn't, it was a giant machine full of flammable substances catapulted in the air at a ridiculous speed… dear god he was in a plane!

And no! He wasn't being a pussy, it was motherfucking scary and a miracle that he could sit so calmly in his chair without making a sound (although he had the very strong urge to run around in circles screaming like a little girl). It really took all his strength and will power to remain nice and calm because, yeah, he needed to be a good roll Modell to the cute and innocent kids…

But you know, Alfred talking about ways the airplane could crash in an invincible ball of burning and agonizingly hot fire wasn't really helping his situation… Like, at all.

"Dude, I'm going to take a piss, where's the toilet?" Alfred told them oh so elegantly (which Matthias actually didn't care about, he wasn't prissy like Arthur).

"At the end, there." Matthew pointed to the end of the plane, Matthias paled.

"All righty." Alfred straightened himself. "I'll be right bac-"

"NO!" Matthias grabbed to boys hand and yanked him back. "Stay were you are!"

The few people who hadn't been staring at them (because of Alfred obnoxious yelling) sure were now.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Stay there! Nobody move! It might disrupt the delicate balance of the damned thing and then we crash! Oh dear god! I don't want to join Arthur in the afterlife yet!"

"Dude-"

"Don't move, I said! Sweet mother of Jezus, please let us make it!"

"dude, listen to me! If that happens… I'LL BE YOUR TOTAL HERO!"

Silence, until Matthew stood up from his chair, a red palm print on his forehead. Matthias paled again, and he tried to grab the other one's hand too, sadly though, Matthew was quicker in avoiding him.

"What are you doing, Matthew!"

"I'm going to find a new family."

The boy promptly walked away from them, Matthias own shouts about how he was making the plane crash and Alfred complaints about how they were the most awesome family ever ignoring.

Several hours later, three men stood at the exit of the London airport, marvelling at the city before them. The man in the middle was brightly smiling and clutching his star-spangled banner suitcase to his chest which was clad in an evenly patriotic shirt (a far too thin shirt, since it rained in London, like, always). On the right stood a very different looking boy, roughly (exactly) the same age and also the same height, but with a less cheerful look upon his face and a rather big hand-shaped bruise on his forehead, also, he was waving regrettably at some family who was walking away. One the left of the patriotic boy stood a very large and older man, pale and sickly looking, in his eyes a look of sheer terror, as if he had just looked death in the face. The man was clutching the other boy with all his might.

In short, Matthew, Alfred and Matthias had arrived in London. And boy, it better be ready for them.

"So where to now?" Alfred asked Matthias, who finally released him and grabbed his cell phone, which had navigation on it, which is totally handy and cool. It was already dark outside, nearing eleven O'clock and they had just been through a horrid and long flight, needless to say, they were pretty damn tired. All three of them had agreed that they would first get to a hotel and sleep, so the the following day they could search for Arthur's mother and from there on they would see where they would go.

Matthias found the right Hotel on his cell phone and guided the two boys through the streets of London. Luckily, the place wasn't very far from the airport and within twenty minutes they stepped into a decent looking lobby.

Without much trouble they got the keys from the very nice (an well-endowed, Matthias noticed) receptionist, and they were off to their room. It wasn't much, a single room with three beds, a bathroom and a telly, but it was enough. Mathias watched as Alfred immediately occupied the bed closest to the window, pouncing on it, then moving to lay flat on his stomach, Matthew wordlessly placed his bag in front of the next bed and began to unpack his clothes. He himself moved to the last bed, closest to the door, and he sat down. He was tired, very tired, the long and stressful trip was getting to him, but he still wanted to explain to the boys what would happen the following day.

"Boys listen…" He began, immediately Alfred let out a groan, signalling he didn't want to do anything but sleep. Matthew, however, had immediately stopped unpacking and moved to sit on his bed, face towards Matthias. The intense violet stare unnerving the blonde man a little.

"Alfred, get your ass up, little brat. I've got stuff to say!" He said, not in the mood for Alfred's antics, Matthias wanted to sleep too after all. Alfred, with a lot of groaning and whining, moved to sit upright and looked his way, his hair already in disarray and his brows frowned in annoyance.

"What's it? I wanna sleep!" He whined, so very, very annoyingly.

Matthias closed his eyes for a second, his fuse already short, he resisted the urge to give the boy a kick under his ass. "Don't be a brat," "I'm not a brat!" "I want to tell you two about tomorrow."

"We're going to Miss White, right?" Matthew spoke up, his voice barely audible.

Matthias nodded. "Yes, I've found out the address, so we'll hail a cab and let it drive us to the destination. I want us all up and about at eight."

"Eight? That's far to early!" Alfred exclaimed. "Can't we sleep a little bit longer?"

Matthias was about to respond to the lazy boy, when Matthew cut him off.

"Don't complain so much, brother." Matthew softly said, but there was a bite to his words, although he smiled sweetly in Alfred's direction. "After all, uncle Matthias is trying to speak."

Alfred grumbled unintelligently, but remained quiet, dimly playing with the bedspread. Probably sulking because his brother had berated him.

"Yeah, Thanks Matthew, Where was I?" Matthias spoke up again." O right, Arthur's mother. Well after we've talked to her, we'll know where to turn next. But, both of you, I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to say. Alfred, I want you to look at me."

Alfred, who had still been messing with his bedspread and thus not looking in his direction, looked up; he seemed to recognize the serious tone in which the giant man was speaking. Matthew eyes became, if possible, more intense.

"I don't know what we're dealing with here, but not under any circumstances do I want you boys investigating this thing _alone_. You will not go to potential suspects – and those will be everybody Arthur knew- and question them without me, never. Understood? I don't want you two in any kind of danger."

'Yes, uncle Matthias." Matthew quietly spoke up and Matthias nodded at him, before he moved his gaze towards Alfred. Who had a thoughtful look upon his face.

"But," he began. "What if there's a break-"

"No, Alfred, not without me. Do you understand?" Matthias knew Alfred, the boy had the tendency to want to be the hero, fix everything on his own.

"…"

"Alfred?" His voice was forceful now.

"You're treating us as children, we're already eighteen-!"

"Alfred Jones, do you understand?"

"…Alright, I won't"

Matthias was relieved, he really didn't want those boys to get themselves into trouble. "Alright, let's go to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

Not long after, they were all in their respective beds. The lights were switched off and everything was drowned in darkness. But although Matthias was really tired, he couldn't sleep. It wasn't in his carefree personality, but still, right now he couldn't help but worry. Had it really been clever to involve the two young men into this? Alfred was such a loose cannon and Matthew… Matthew had to put his education on hold for this. But still, the way everything -prior to coming to London- had been going wasn't good either, Matthias knew that the two needed this just as much as he did.

But still, he couldn't help but wonder… Was he putting the two in danger?

Not for the first time since the two boys had been in his care, Matthias regretted the promise he made Arthur so long ago.

Slowly he could feel his eyed drifting closed, sleep taking over, that one memory in the forefront of his mind.

_Green eyes stared intoxicated at him, the owner was swaying on his bar seat, not yet falling. But however drunk the blonde midget was, he still kept their gaze locked and intense. He seemed shocked at the words Matthias had said. Matthias would've been shocked about his own words too, and their meaning, if he wasn't so busy staring at those green, beautiful, eyes._

_The whole conversation about rowdy brothers had started as a joke, but it had turned dead serious now. Though Matthias couldn't bring himself to care; if he could just look into those eyes a second longer._

_He would do anything, if he could just stare in those eyes a little while longer._

* * *

><p>Despite his whining the previous night, Alfred was the first to wake up. The sun was filtering through the curtains just barely and Alfred lazily move into a sitting position before stretching and yawning. He was in a good mood, hell, heroes were always in good moods, but today he felt really good; they were finally doing <em>something<em>. Alfred turned to his brother, noticed that he was still sleeping and then turned to Matthias, he was also still sleeping, before looking at the alarm clock. It was a quarter past seven.

Alfred silently padded to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the water cascaded down his body he tried to relax. He was anxious, he couldn't deny that, Alfred had no doubt that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but he never was one to take the easy way out… except for the last months. He really had been quite an asshole, he knew that, but he would try to remedy that. The last couple of days had been an eye-opener, it wasn't that he wasn't sad or angry anymore, but for the first time in a long while he had noticed both Matthew and Matthias. It seemed Alfred wasn't the only one angry and sad and he would do his best to be less of a dick. He had decided this the night after he had found the letter.

Matthew and Matthias should just wait and see; he would be the hero once again, he would become _their_ hero.

A while later, Alfred exited the bathroom, only to see Matthew already dressed and sitting on the bed. His quiet brother seemed to be reading some huge book on some extremely boring topic, he didn't even notice Alfred stepping in the room. The blonde hero took a minute to watch his brother read, Matthews eyes focused and alert; brows frowned, before Alfred felt a grin tug at his mouth and he stepped forward, stealing Matthews book with one fluid motion.

Shocked, Matthew looked up. "Hey! What are you doing? Give my book back!"

Matthew got up from the bed he was sitting on and moved to grab the book back, Alfred just laughed and held the book high, just a few centimetre too high for Matthew to reach.

"Mattie," Alfred grinned when he saw the annoyed twitch of Matthew's eyebrow when the blonde realized that even when he stood on his tiptoes, Alfred was still _just _a little taller, so he couldn't reach his beloved freaking huge mind killer book. "Whatcha doing reading this shit?" He wiggled the book in his hand a little (making the different coloured book markers fall out).

"It's from college! Now give it back!"

"But I'm totally saving you from this monstrosity! You should thank me." Alfred grinned at his twin brother, eyes shining with fake innocence.

"It's interesting!"

"It is?" Alfred lowered the book to take a look –quickly avoiding Matthews grabbing hands and dodging his tackles- and read a random page which was opened. Dear god, it was even more boring than he had feared! "Mattie, dude, seriously, 'The use of axial flow down-pumping agitators in biological processes'. I don't even know half the words that are in here!"

Matthew huffed. "Big surprise there."

"That's low bro, I'm very smart." Alfred ignored the loud snort. "There MUST be a playboy or something hidden in here! No person in their right mind would voluntarily read this shit!" Alfred began shuffling the pages, desperately trying to ignore the boring titles that were presented to him while doing so. But no, no playboy could be found.

"It's for college, Alfred." Matthew tried to make another grab, since Alfred was distracted and all, but the blonde simply darted away from his grabbing hands, again. "I'm trying to keep up, in case you didn't notice; you two dragged me to London."

Alfred gave the boy a sceptical look. "You've read this _great evil thing_ almost the whole flight long. Besides, I doubt that three months into college you already have to be at chapter…" Alfred turned the pages to the furthest sticky bright coloured note. "_thirty-six. _Christ, you really need to relax Mattie!"

"I can do what I want, please Alfred, give me my book back."

"No."

"_No?"_

"Mattie, I'm being the total hero here! If this continued, three weeks from now, you won't have a social life anymore! You'd be considered such a nerd!" Alfred nodded (to himself). "I'm totally going to save you from nerdiness, my brother."

"…Alfred, we're in London, we don't have a social life here! We don't know anybody!"

"Dude, seriously, ever heard of Facebook?"

"This hotel doesn't have internet."

"WHAT!"

* * *

><p>"How are you?" Surprised, Doctor Maxwell looked up, next to him stood a blonde nurse –Stacy, he recalled- how long had she been there? Seeing him like that? Him staring at the woman behind the glass lying in that hospital bed …<p>

"How am I?" Maxwell thought about that question and he really didn't know the answer. It wasn't like something as this hadn't happened before, as a matter of fact he had expected the woman to snap again. But still… every time he failed in saving her…

It just really hurt.

Nurse Stacy was looking at him in concern and Doctor Maxwell briefly wondered if she would have been so interested in his wellbeing if he hadn't been voted the most handsome doctor in the hospital. He quickly squished the thought though, Nurse Stacy was just trying to be nice.

It was no secret to the staff that the woman behind that glass door had been his patient for quite a while now, appointed to him when he first started working in the hospital, and how long was he working here already? thirteen, fourteen years? God, he didn't even know anymore. But the fact remained that the woman had been his patient for a really long time, he had made progress with her of course, but the damage she'd done to herself was severe and sometimes he wondered if he would ever succeed in giving her but a sample of life back. It wasn't very likely though.

Doctor Maxwell dreaded today and what would happen. He had been surprised when he heard, it had been twelve years since someone visited the blonde woman. He almost hadn't believed it, thought it was a prank. But then the receptionist had shown him the names of the people who wanted to see the woman that day; Matthew Williams, Matthias Køhler and Alfred Jones.

_Jones._

That was a name Maxwell knew.

It didn't make any sense to the doctor though, the receptionist had told him the gentleman on the phone had been quite surprised that the woman was residing in a hospital. The caller had wanted to come by as early as possible, but the blonde woman being in the fragile state she was, it was essential the group of three would come when he, her doctor, was with her. Furthermore, what did these people want from his patient? Doctor Maxwell had never heard of any of those people and he had thought that_ if_ someone named Jones would come and visit her, it would've been Thomas Jones, not some Alfred.

And, of course, he would've liked it if Arthur Kirkland came too. Doctor Maxwell really wanted to apologize to that boy. He had been a total wanker to the blonde haired kid.

"Doctor Maxwell?"

The Doctor looked up and turned around, Stacy was gone, in front of him stood the head nurse. A fifty year old woman, the person who taught the new doctors the ropes, the mother hen of the hospital really. She was looking at him with real concern, so different as the look Stacy had given him and he felt his stomach twist in anticipation.

"They're here."

It was then that the doctor noticed the three men standing behind the motherly woman. "Thank you Mrs Lawton," He gave her his dazzling trademark smile. "I can handle it from here." And she walked of ( a little dizzily, his smile had that effect on women (and some men)).

They were all tall, all three of them. Blonde too.

The tallest and blondest of the three stepped forward, his hair spiky and wild, a smile not as dazzling as his own, but playful and cocky. He was obviously the oldest of the three, though not old; he couldn't be more than thirty years old. The blonde extended his hand and Maxwell took it, their handshake was firm and strong. "Good day." Maxwell greeted. "I'm doctor Maxwell. You are the ones that called this morning?"

"Yes that would have been me!" The blonde giant produced a light laugh. "You've got a very nice sounding secretary, Doctor, maybe I could meet her? Her voice sounded very-"

The blond boy who stood to the right coughed lightly -clearly a sign that the other should stop talking- before his mouth stretched in a grin so blinding and white that doctor Maxwell had to look away for a second. "Don't mind him, Doctor, He's just not as cool and heroic as me!" The boy grabbed his hand rather roughly and started to shake it enthusiastically up and down. "I am Alfred F. Jones! Nice to meet you! So you're like a hero-doctor right? That's so cool! Oh by the way, that pervy guy was Matthias Køhler and the boy who is too shy to talk is called Matthew Williams! It's so awesome that you could help us!" Doctor Maxwell blinked, the boy was the splitting image of his father, right down to his personality. "I mean, we were all like Artie's mother is in a hospital, what the fudge? You know? And then Matthias was all like 'how's that possible' and I was like 'I don't know dude and Matthew was like 'I need some peace and quiet to read my insanely boring and heavy and awful study book' and then we all decided to walk around London to pass the time and boy! IT's a really nice city! Only the rain won't shut up, you know? Well if you ask m-"

"Alfred, You're rambling." Said the pervy man –Matthias- effectively cutting the enthusiastic boy up and saving the doctors ears. And his hand too; during that whole rambling session the youth hadn't bothered to stop shaking his hand; fortunately now it was released.

"All right," Maxwell started. "I presume that you blokes are the ones who requested to see Elizabeth White; my patient?"

"Y-yes, D-doctor." The quiet boy stuttered, speaking up for the first time. He and Alfred looked a lot alike. Though not personality wise, it seemed.

"Before you can talk to her, I need to know what your relationship is with my patient and what your business is here, she is in a fragile state of mind right now." Maxwell looked the three people strictly in the eyes, they seemed to be surprised by the news.

"Fragile state of mind." Matthias spoke. "What do you mean?"

"I'll explain in a minute, first I like to know exactly who you three are."

Matthias stepped forward. "Do you know who Arthur Kirkland is?" he asked.

"Yes I do, the boy's her son. He came here once before."

Matthias ignored the golden youth's quiet "he did?" and took the lead again. "I'm his best friend, and this are his half-brothers, Matthew and Alfred."

"Mr. Jones had more kids then? But Matthew, his last name is Williams…"

The quiet boy gave a quiet and small smile. "M-mom was s-s-strong headed, she wanted one of her twins to have her last n-name."

"Yeah." Golden boy laughed. "They were so _weird_! But also totally awesome of course!"

_Were, _it didn't escape the doctors notice. So Mr Jones died? A bloody shame, he had been a nice enough bloke.

Matthias spoke up again. "I have no problem giving you this information, but without a doubt, you've already checked it out, haven't you, I already gave it to the secretary over the phone after all."

Doctor Maxwell gave a light smile. "You can't be to cautions, but I guess I shouldn't distrust a police officer." He sighed. "Very well, let me explain the situation."

He gestured behind him, to the woman behind the glass. The trio immediately walked forward towards the glass to get a better view. Elizabeth White had moved, she was now sitting up, looking blankly into space. Her soft hair fell around her like smooth silk, her mouth was in straight line.

"I-is that…?"

"Yes, that is Elizabeth White, this hospital has a special wing for mentally ill patients, we're standing in that wing now." He said seriously. "I'm sure Arthur told you about this – although I don't understand why he wants you to visit his mother- but she is very distressed; she's been here for a long time, but only little progress has been made."

"She's sick?" Alfred's voice was small and sad, so unlike the way he had spoken before. "For how long?"

Doctor Maxwell looked at the three people standing behind him and was surprised to see the shock in their faces. "She's been admitted here for years and years, surely Arthur told you?" No answer, Doctor Maxwell sighed (for the umpteen time that day) and finally asked the questions he really wanted to know. "Why would the boy even want you three to visit her? She doesn't know you at all. And hasn't he told you the whole situation…?"

"No he hasn't." Matthias unnervingly calm voice floated through the empty hallway. "He didn't."

Doctor Maxwell could feel himself getting frustrated. "Then what the bloody hell-"

"He's dead."

This time, Matthew's voice didn't stutter. It was almost unnerving how intense the kid was staring at the woman in the hospital bed. "He's dead, and we have to tell her."

_Oh_

Arthur Kirkland died? But he was so young, he couldn't have been more than twenty-seven years old… Life indeed could be cruel.

And Elizabeth…

Maxwell shoulders sagged, how was it, that even now… when confronted with a young man's untimely end, he still could only worry about…

"It'll destroy her."

Silence met his statement. He immediately felt guilty about that little sentence, however true it's wording may have been. But Elizabeth was fragile and there was no telling how she would react to the dead of her only child. Still, Maxwell knew, she was his mother and she had every right to know. How could he be so selfish as to deny her that truth? He had no right. Just as he had no right in blaming the three men before him for bringing bad news, just as he didn't have any right to blame Arthur about his lack of compassion, so many years ago.

"Arthur Kirkland… He wanted you to tell her if something happened to him?"

The tree kept staring at the woman, Matthias and Alfred looking sad, Matthew was still sporting that intense look. Eventually Matthias nodded.

"Yes, though I didn't know that she was sick… Did Arthur know? Earlier… you told us he visited…"

Maxwell nodded. "Yes, once."

Alfred seemed to snap out his thoughts with his answer. "Once? But she's sick! Why didn't he come more often?" Maxwell could see the genuine confusion on the boy's face, as if Maxwell answer didn't match with the older brother he knew. "Arthur is not the kind that would abandon his mother! Why didn't he visit more often?"

Maxwell gave him a smile. "I do not know boy, I've asked myself that same question. But… I'm sure," His gaze moved, once again, to the woman. "he had his reasons."

"C-c-can y-you tell u-us about when Arthur came to v-v-visit her?" Matthew stuttered, he seemed to be unable to talk normally to strangers. The other two looked towards him with interest.

And Doctor Maxwell began his story.

"She's been in my care since I started working here." The doctor scoffed. "I was young and naïve, convinced I could cure everybody, Hah! What a fool I was. Miss White was a lost case, everybody knew that, so why not assign her to a new recruit?" The handsome doctor laid one hand on the glass wall, eyes trained on the woman behind the glass. "They were just trying to teach me that not everybody could be saved, I know that now. But back then, I tried everything to trigger some reaction from her. When I heard that her son wanted to see her –after years of absence, we didn't even know she had a son!- I was ecstatic, thinking it may be the trigger to get that woman to talk again; she hadn't yet. I was so young, so inexperienced, such a bloody fool."

_He knew it was her son the moment he saw him; he had the exact same eyes, that same shade of green, that same look in them; mystic, beautiful. Not only his eyes, but also his nose, his bone structure, that dirty blonde hair… Miss White definitely looked related to the kid. This brought Doctor Maxwell in a state of excitement; thus far he hadn't been able to make any progress with the beautiful but disturbed woman, but this… this could change things around! Though he did wonder why the boy hadn't visited his own mother sooner, it was HIS mother for god's sake!_

_His beautiful, beautiful mother._

_Off course, Doctor Maxwell couldn't very well let his displeasure show, he was a professional after all, already three months working in the hospital! Though he came fresh from medical school, his superiors had tasked him with a case as Miss White, they must think big of him to entrust such a task to him!_

_The boy, Arthur, Doctor Maxwell recalled, had arrived a few minutes ago, in company of another, very tall man. It was the same man Maxwell spoke on the phone a view times, arranging the meeting between the boy and his mother. Slipping a pleasant smile on his face, doctor Maxwell extended his hand to the tall man._

"_Mr Jones, a pleasure to meet you face to face!" He happily said. "I hope your journey here was pleasurable? Would this be Arthur?" He gestured to the boy standing beside Mr Jones._

_Mr Jones smile was simply blinding as the man took his hand in a strong grip, his other encircling the short and cranky looking boy's shoulder. "The pleasure is all mine! Thanks a bunch for giving us the opportunity to visit, I appreciate it very much." The man gave the kid a small push towards Maxwell, and the doctor was still a little bothered by the thunderous expression on the kid's face. "And yes, this is Arthur, my son. Please excuse his lack of manners, he's a little nervous."_

_Yes, Maxwell knew the boy was the man's son, he had heard over the phone. He knew that the boy and the other had found each other recently, he also found out that the boy had been in foster care before his father had found him but it was there that his knowledge of the two's personal relationship stopped.. It was a slightly odd situation, but nothing he couldn't handle. It was hard to imagine the two being family though, other than the blonde hair, they looked nothing alike; different eyes, face, height, build and it seemed they had a very different personality as well. The man seemed overly pleasant and joyful, while the boy seemed like a cranky little brat._

_Maybe he was jumping to conclusions._

"_I'm not nervous, you bloody twat, now let's get this over with alright? Where is she?"_

_Doctor Maxwell nearly scowled at the disrespectful kid, but being the professional he was, he simply guided them to Miss White's room. The whole way there, the boy didn't speak, while Mr Jones kept rambling about everything he saw. It was hard not to like the man, even though he seemed to have left his patient in the past. But the doctor supposed he shouldn't judge; he didn't know what transpired between the two and the happy man had contacted them with the idea for a visit. _

_Doctor Maxwell stopped in front of the woman's room, The wall next to the door was made of glass, enabling them to watch the sleeping figure in her bed. All so that they could keep a close eye on the woman. She looked peaceful, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her mouth curved into a little smile and her body relaxed. Doctor Maxwell felt the two other persons step beside him, also watching the sleeping female._

"_She was admitted a few years back, I've been working with her for a while now…" he told the two blondes. The man had placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, the sunny guy seemed devastated, a look of pain and guilt clearly seen on his face. The boy was different, he was just blankly staring at the sleeping figure in the bed, neutral, not a speck of emotion on his face. His eyes unreadable._

_The elder man turned to Maxwell. "What's wrong with her?"_

"_She hasn't spoken the whole time she has been here." Doctor Maxwell regrettably informed the father and son. "She seems to be confused, disorientated; not able to form coherent thoughts."_

"_I see." The Mr Jones said. "Is there any hope for recovery?"_

_Doctor Maxwell sighed. "We're trying our hardest to help her, maybe if she sees her son… There's a good chance she will react to that…" Maxwell glanced to the boy, he was still facing the glass, not reacting at all to his words. "I was glad you two decided to visit her." Maxwell tried very hard to not sound accusing, but he couldn't help but linger on the thought that they 'finally' visited her, had it really been necessary to let the woman be alone all this time? _

"_Yes," Mr Jones answered. "we were glad we were able to find her, both Arthur and I haven't had contact with her for years and years! You really think Arthur will be able to help, that's fantastic!" A sunny smile once again found the man's face, he turned to his son, who was still standing there, staring blankly at the beautiful woman. "Isn't that great, Arthur? You'll get to see your mother a lot-" _

"_She isn't my mother." Arthur interrupted the man, not having moved a muscle. "At least, not anymore."_

_Doctor Maxwell was shocked, was it the wrong kid? No, he said 'not anymore'. What was going on? What was that rude little kid saying?_

_Mr Jones seemed shocked and surprised too, he grabbed both of his sons shoulders and turned Arthur towards him. "Arthur, what are you saying? Of course she's your mother!"_

_The boy's hair was obscuring the view from his face. His body had tensed when his father grabbed him, though, and his fist had tightened._

"…_Thank you, Mr Jones." The boy's voice was quiet and Doctor Maxwell had to strain his ears to hear it. Who called their own father that? "I appreciate that I had the chance to see her. To see her… one last time…"_

"_What do you mean? Didn't you hear doctor Maxwell? You can visit her as much as you like, it will help her." The father was looking intently at his son, but the son kept his head down. Maxwell was getting irritated, he was not letting the one person that could save her leave just like that!_

"_For all I care…" The boy shook the hands from his shoulders and began to walk away from them, the next words coming out his mouth were harsh and cold. "She can rot in this place until she dies." _

_Doctor Maxwell froze and he saw that Mr Jones did too. He hadn't been expecting that, the kid's words were so cruel! He clenched his fists, anger taking over him. That boy was her son! He had a responsibility to take care of her! That ungrateful little… Angrily, the young Doctor shot forward and grabbed the short kid by the arm, stopping him from walking away. "Wait a minute, you brat! You are her only chance! Don't you dare walk away from this!"_

_To his utter surprise the boy started laughing. "Such temper, not very professional, are you?" The boy turned and looked him square in the eye, green eyes burning. "Don't pretend you really care, doctor, it isn't hard to see; you only want to shag the woman, don't you?"_

_Doctor Maxwell felt like someone had punched him in the gut, he clenched his teeth and tightened the grip around the boy's arm. He was shocked, appalled and mostly angry. Angry, at this little insolent and rude kid, that didn't even want to help his own goddamn mother recover. _

"_Please release my son, doctor." A voice spoke behind him and Maxwell turned his head to stare at the other man. Mr Jones looked shocked as well, but his expression was determent. Violently Doctor Maxwell shoved the boy's arm free._

"_Get out of this hospital."_

_And they both did, never to come back. _

After he was finished, nobody spoke, nobody made a sound.

Until the golden boy decided the punch the wall behind him.

"I don't believe you! Arthur would've never left his mother like that!" He growled out angrily, as if saying anything that contradicted his image of his big brother should be a capital crime. "Arthur wouldn't have walked away!"

"He did." Maxwell told the angry boy. He hadn't lied, and the world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. One way or another, the boy's older brother _had _abandoned his mother, though his motives were unclear, that truth surely wasn't. "But I can tell you this; when we picked her up for the first time, she was living in a filthy house, in a bad neighbourhood strung out on drugs… In short, I don't think she was a very good mother."

"But she was still his mother!"

"We don't know the circumstances Alfred." Matthias decided to speak up, his tone serious. "I know you want to believe that Arthur did everything right, but that isn't reality. You're not angry because of Arthurs actions here, you're just confused. You're angry because you don't want anyone to tarnish his memory. I get it, but this is reality and you need to calm down."

The boy looked away.

Matthias rubbed his forehead. "Matthew!" The sweet boy shot to attention. "Take the hot-headed brat outside. I'll tell Miss White about her son. All right?"

"O-okay, uncle Matthias." The boy turned to his twin and tugged his arm. "C-come on Alfred."

The golden blonde let himself be pulled away but not before he took Maxwell's sleeve and hissed; "You better not be telling Matthias any more lies, asshole." The doctor laughed and pulled himself free. "Such a temper, It seems reminiscent."

Alfred's eyes went big and, with a tiny sad smile, he released the doctor and went with his (silently scolding) brother.

Elizabeth was still in the same position when they entered, and she didn't react to their presence at all. She seemed to have one of her bad days, when nothing would get through to her. Maxwell worriedly checked her vital signs; they seemed to be in order. If only her mind was too…

After that, he and the blonde giant took a seat next to the blonde woman. Matthias looked at him for permission and Maxwell nodded, after that the blonde giant took Elizabeth's hand -She didn't react at all- and started talking.

"Hello, Miss White… You probably don't know me, but I'm a friend of your son…"

She kept staring blankly ahead, not even a single indication that she heard Matthias's voice. Doctor Maxwell frowned, maybe it was not the right time to tell her the news; she might be unable to understand it at this point. Well, there really was no going back now.

"I came to tell you… Your son, he lived in America for a while, I don't know if you knew that?"

No reaction.

"Well, a couple of months ago… Something terrible happened…"Maxwell noted with a hint of sadness that the guy's voice shook. He didn't really blame him, telling the mother of your best friend that said best friend is dead wasn't an easy task.

"I'm so sorry, Miss White, but… but your son is dead…"

Then there was silence.

No wail of agony, no started scream, not even a small sob came forth from Elizabeth. She did not even blink. No reaction at all.

Doctor Maxwell had anticipated this, he knew the gravity of the woman's mental predicament. But, he could understand when Matthias squeezed the woman's hand tighter, desperately looking for a reaction. And Doctor Maxwell could understand why the man was angry he didn't get any.

"Did you hear me, miss White? I said your son is dead!"

She continued to stare forward, stare at nothing, she didn't even flinch when Matthias fist came down hard on the hospital bed. The doctor frowned, if the man was getting aggressive he should better ask him to leave.

"Woman? Don't you know what I'm saying? Arthur was murdered! Murdered! Your son!"

_Murdered?_

Maxwell blanched, he had not been expecting that one. He quickly looked over to the sick woman once again and saw, without much surprise, no change in her stoic attitude. It was strange for her to not react at all, they had made some progress after all; on good days she even talked, small jumbled sentences, but she still talked. No reaction at all, to something like this, was strange.

"Mister Køhler" He began, noticing the guy's clenched teeth and fists. "She has a bad day, sometimes mental patients don't really understand what's going on. Maybe we should do this some other time."

Mr Køhler's eyes were unreadable when he stared at the woman, but then he nodded, and stood up. Not a word was said when they walked to the door. It was when they reached it and Maxwell fisted the doorknob when a voice halted his very actions.

"My baby…is dead?"

Both whirled around to see Miss White still looking blankly ahead in the exact same way as before, as if nothing happened. But then she opened her mouth once again, and the sound of her voice broke his heart.

"No… you m-must have the wrong…My Arthur is young… I don't get… My Arthur isn't dead… he isn't dead… My little boy…"

She didn't move, she didn't blink, she didn't fall to the ground in sobs. She just continued to sit there, utterly confused, one shining tears making its way across her cheek.

* * *

><p>"Matthias been away a long time dude, that crack head doctor better not be telling any more lies." Alfred complained. Though he told himself it wasn't complaining, he was just worried that the doctor was spouting more lies.<p>

"He wasn't telling lies, Alfred." Matthew's stutter had died down after they left the company of the doctor. His twin had always been like that; so incredibly nervous about meeting new people it was unnerving. Matthew probably wanted to be like him. Because he was a hero. Duh. wait? What had they been talking about? Oh yeah. Matthew was in denial about the stupid doctor's lies.

"Damn right he was! Can you imagine Arthur doing something like that to his own mother? Turning his back on her like that? I don't think so! Arthur was far too kind for that!" Jeez Matthew must know he's right.

"I, I hope he did."

Huh?

"…Huh?"

"I hope he left her, I hope he abandoned her."

Wait, _what?_

"Mattie? What are you talking about?"

"I hate her."

Matthew was acting strange, Alfred worriedly touched his shoulder.

"…Mattie?"

"That first night, the night when you shouted those awful words at Arthur, do you remember? I told you that after, he wanted to go away, but that dad stopped him."

_Of course_ he did.

"Yes, thanks a lot for bringing that up. Makes me feel all fuzzy inside."

"You should've heard… You should've heard how he talked about himself, how little he cared about himself. How could his own mother let her son think those things? I don't know… I don't know what kind of life Arthur lived in London, but no matter what, she should've been the one to protect him."

Alfred swallowed. "Matthew…"

"You didn't hear, Alfred, you didn't hear the things he said."

"…"

"I really hate that woman."

Alfred looked at his twin and he realized he barely knew the boy anymore. Had they really drifted that much apart? Shaking his head, Alfred grabbed Matthew's shoulders – "Hey! What are you-" – and pulled him into a tight hug.

For a moment Matthew didn't move, after that the boy relaxed into his arms and wholeheartedly returned the hug.

For the first time since Arthur died, for a moment, they felt like brothers once more.

* * *

><p><em>A Letter from you<em>

Frog,

Bugger off; you're annoying

Sincerely,

Arthur .

P.S French is for frogs.

* * *

><p>I hope you liked it! I've tried to make it good, but I'm REALLY insecure about this chapter! So pleaseplease review!<p>

Seriously good or bad (making me aware what kind of spelling mistakes I made) it's all totally cool and wholeheartedly appreciated.

Well, that's my whole speech. See you next time!

Oh PS. If your thinking; huh? Arthur Kirikland, Elizabeth White, Jones? Why does Arthur have another last name? There's a reason!


	4. Mrs Wingon and Francis Bonnefoy

And there it is, finally, a new chapter. Pardon the delay but I had very very difficult exams to do! *Sniffle*

I hope you'll enjoy!

And I do not own hetalia!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 Mrs Wingon and Francis Bonnefoy<strong>

Matthew really liked London, it had a different atmosphere then the major cities in America and he liked how polite the people were in this country. He had always liked polite people, they would never be mean to him when he couldn't finish a simple sentence. Maybe that was why, sometimes, Alfred could annoy him so very much…Then again, Matthias was rude a lot of the time too. Matthew liked to think _he_ was a polite person, but if he was honest with himself; Matthew didn't really talk enough to be considered polite or nice, just quiet. Matthew, the quiet twin. Quiet, invisible, a lot of the time people just didn't notice him right away; he guessed with a twin brother like Alfred it was inevitable.

Yeah.

He really wished people didn't notice him right about now. He was embarrassed beyond believe. Why you ask? Alfred, who else? His twin brother was such a_ American_. A stereotypical American tourist, doing all the cliché and stereotypical things that stereotypical Americans do. Talking loudly (and obnoxiously), saying everything in America is smarter, bigger and better. He's wearing a bandana that said 'I was in London' for god's sake! The sunglasses (even though there is no sun) just complete the whole picture.

After their visit to the hospital, Matthias had told them he was going to the nearest police station, since in the hospital couldn't tell him anything about the woman's previous whereabouts because of privacy rules (he tried to flash his badge but it was a American one so London was a little out of his jurisdiction). At the police station he would (hopefully) get the right clearances to gain right to the protected files. So Matthias had said to them that they should go and enjoy the city some more because 'it would take a butt load of time to get it all done'.

So, them being the perfect little angels they were (well Matthew) they decided to listen to their guardian of sorts and they went to have fun in London (Which isn't very hard to do), Alfred albeit a little louder than Matthew. They had a nice time, seeing all the famous sites; the big ben, the London eye, the bridge… It was all very interesting, even if people kept bumping into him because he was practically invisible. But it was already late and Matthew could feel himself getting tired, he could see by the way Alfred was dragging his feet that the normally energetic blonde was tired as well. So when they came across a playground (which was abandoned this time in the evening) they both gratefully lowered themselves on the two swings.

After that it was silent for a while, Matthew supposed they both had things to think about. The quiet blonde still wasn't happy about the fact he had been dragged all over the world to do things his big brother had specifically said not to do, but he was here now and he guessed he should make peace with that. However, this didn't soothe his fears and it certainly didn't ease his crippling guilt.

"Mattie?" a voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked up in the sky-blue eyes of his twin. Matthew had always been envious of those eyes, they were so very pretty and seemed to go so well with his brother's personality.

"Yes?" he answered.

"How do you think she took it?" Matthew knew immediately who the other boy meant, and a small smile eased onto his face; though it didn't always look that way, Alfred had the biggest heart there was. He could care so much about people. Huh, his brother was truly bipolar.

"I don't know, she seemed pretty out of it, Alfred."

The silence returned after that and Matthew didn't know how to break it. He was so different from his twin, Alfred could do anything he set his mind to, but he himself, scared little Matthew, couldn't even break a damned silence.

"Look…" Matthew's head shot up, Alfred had spoken again. "I know I haven't been the best brother lately" He saw Alfred's hands tighten on the strings. "Neither have I been a good roommate or boyfriend. So firstly, I want to apologize to you, I should've handled everything better with Matthias and Kiku and you…"

Matthew was surprised, he tried to catch his brother's eyes but the boy was looking down. "Alfred it's okay."

"Is it really? Wouldn't Arthur turn in his grave if he saw the way I've been acting?"

Matthew starting swinging softly, and Alfred looked up. The quiet teen tried to give the other a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Alfred, you're coming around aren't you? Besides, if you want to please ghost-Arthur maybe you should start by speaking correct and civilised English."

Alfred snorted a smile slipping on his face. "Yeah, I remember, the dude could become unreasonably angry about that. Always picking on me! Never so much as a peep to you, it wasn't fair." Alfred gave a little pout.

"That's because I speak English correctly."

"Tch, you messed up just as much as I did! But nooooo~! Matthew is too sweet to lecture! The little angel!"

Matthew sputtered, insulted. "I never messed up!"

"You sure did little bro."

"No I didn't, and we're the same age, I'm not your 'little bro'."

"Yes you did! And your smaller than me, that makes you the little brother."

"I didn't! And your logic is flawed!"

"You totally did, dude, and logic-schmogic"

"Hah, 'totally' and 'dude' don't sound very gentleman-ly to me!"

"Ah Mattie~! Just accept that you were Artie's little angel!"

"…I will not."

Alfred laughed, a carefree loud one. Those were rare these days but Matthew loved hearing them. Then Alfred began to swing on his swing, higher and higher. After a moments deliberation with Matthew's inner self who was telling him he wasn't a five year old kid anymore, he thought 'what the heck' and the blonde followed his twin brother's example. They continued like that for a while, until Alfred suddenly began to shout in a obnoxiously loud voice (probably disturbing half the neighbourhood).

"MATTIE! Can I tell you a SECRET?"

Bewildered Matthew looked towards his brother and raised an eyebrow.

"WHAT?"

"A SECRET!"

"NO! I mean; what's the secret?"

"OH!"

"Alfred!"

"…ARE YOU READY FOR IT?"

"Yes, Alfred, I'm ready!"

"IT'S A VERY IMPORTANT SECRET!"

"Just tell me!"

"I THINK I LOST OUR HOTEL KEY!"

And then it began to rain.

* * *

><p>They should all just die. Die in a fire. All those uncooperative bastards! It was already eleven in the evening and he hadn't made any progress. He was send from one corner of the huge building to another and Matthias had the sneaking suspicion those inhuman britts were pulling his leg, <em>deceiving him<em>. He knew they could just take a look in the computer and the information would just come rolling out, but those annoying people wouldn't give him anything!

And why was the police building so freaking huge? It wasn't normal! Twelve stories! Huffing and puffing Matthias arrived at the seventh uninterested looking secretary, he had been send here by the previous one; this one supposedly could check out if he now had clearance to view the woman's files (now, after hours of jurisdiction mumble jumbo).

Matthias was tired, but not so tired as to not see that the secretary was really sexy, though a little flat-chested, he really had a thing for the business-like woman. But she was inspecting her nails with great intensity and Matthias had a nagging suspicion one of the other secretary's had warned her about the 'arrogant, rowdy, American cop' as the fat middle-aged secretary at the fifth floor had oh-so-gracefully called him.

He stepped forward determinately, slamming the documents he had been given on the second floor on the gleaming desk. Annoyed the woman looked up, her green eyes glaring at Matthias, long eyelashes fluttering. Matthias was momentarily stunned by her pretty-ness, the half long pale blond hair looking soft to the touch, the pink plump lips a rosy red, the pretty delicate neck with a bobbling Adams apple-

Wait, what?

Ademsapple?

"You're a dude!"

The pretty green eyes hardened it's glare. "That's like, so rude! I totally dislike you now, you brute man. " She –no, he, HE!- grabbed the nail polish which stood in hand reach and perched his legs on the desk. Once again inspecting the gleaming red nails, the she-male waved disinterestedly his way.

"What do you want?"

Ignoring the secretary's overall rudeness (after all, he had been rude too) he impatiently tapped the documents on the desk with his fist. "I need clearance to look into the personal files of a woman named Elizabeth White, currently residing in Britannia Angel hospital,-"

"You're totally wrong here, dearie, Go to the second floor, get the files ZX-B then you need to go over to the administration division of cases which deal with fraud, which located is like, really close. Get the required documents there. After that, come back, I'll be totally ready to help you!"

That damn person. The whole time the pretty blonde had kept studying his nails and had never even glanced his way. Matthias could feel his blood starting to boil.

"The woman down below said all I needed were_ these_ documents, which took hours to acquire!"

The green eyed witch took one small glance towards the documents perched on the table before speaking again. "You totally spoke to Marcy, always getting the documents wrong. Like, those are documents ZC-B, _you _need the ZX-B."

"Look here, woman, ehm man.-"

"I like to think I'm the best of both."

"Whatever, I've been scouring this god-forsaken place for hours now, going from infuriating woman to annoyingly arrogant men! And now you're telling me that because of some mistake made by  
>Margret-"<p>

"Marcy."

"Marcy sorry, That because some mistake made by Marcy I have to begin _all over again_." He felt his blood boiling, his head becoming a nasty shade of red.

And _still _the man kept inspecting his nails, now using one hand to apply a new cover of shiny nail polish.

"No need to like, totally freak out, mistakes are totally human."

"What if… what if I tell you… you look amazing and strikingly beautiful?"

Not even a glance, the blonde just breathed on the freshly painted nails. "Flattery will totally get you into my pants, not access to restricted information. That would, like, cost me my job."

The urge to wrap his hands around the skinny blondes neck was strong, but he managed to calm himself just in time. Tiredly he rubbed his temples. He was going to make it, he just needed to be _patient_.

"Alright." Matthias gritted out. "Tell me again, what do I need to do to acquire the _right _documents?"

The pale blonde gave a large sigh, as if helping Matthias was the worst thing ever. "Like, can't you remember? Go to the second floor, get the files ZC-B-"

"I have those here!"

"Oh, like totally. I meant the files ZX-B, like get those and then go to the Britannia Angels hospital-"

"But didn't you just say something else-"

"Who's the secretary here? I'm totally speaking the truth here! Get the files ZX-B on the third floor and after that go to the shelter for misused animals to get the other required documents and after that you can come back to me and I'll totally help you!"

Matthias clenched his fists and his teeth, he was ready to forcefully gain access to the computer which held the answer to all his problems when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Feliks?" Matthias turned around, behind him stood a rather short, brown-haired, _sane _looking man, frowning slightly. "What are you doing? I thought I told you to wait in the hall? Why are you behind my desk?"

_Now _the blonde did react, in seconds the guy –now dubbed Feliks- shot up, sitting dignified on the office chair and smiling sweetly. "Toris! I thought I would, like, totally help you out when you were in the little boys room! I totally solved this man's troubles!"

Matthias saw the brown haired dude's eyes access the situation, first going over the innocently smiling blonde, then towards the documents stacked on the desk, before moving to his own –rather livid looking- face. Matthias could _see_ realisation sinking in.

The man named Toris paled.

"Feliks! Why don't you go downstairs, officer Mangles wants some fashion advice." Toris gently told the other. Which Matthias found quite strange; if someone raped _his _workplace he wouldn't be so nice.

"Like really? He finally listened? I'm going!"

After the blonde had dashed of, the brown haired took a seat behind the desk and tapped his computer to life. After that, he turned to Matthias and folded his hand on top of the desk. The difference between the two men was astounding.

"I'm sorry about Feliks, he's a little… enthusiastic."

Matthias wanted to shout at the man too, relieve some of his anger and frustration. But the brown-haired man looked so apologetic and sad –like a kicked puppy- that his anger flowed right out of him. He'd always been a sucker for those big innocent eyes, that's why Arthur had been able to pull so much shit with him when he was roaring drunk. He took a deep breath, he had to hold it together.

"I need clearance to look into the personal files of a woman named Elizabeth White, currently residing in Britannia Angel hospital, anything you can give me."

Toris frowned at the mention of Arthur's mother's name, but Matthias was too tired to pay much attention to it. He shoved the documents and his badge towards the brown-haired man, who took one look at the American badge, before starting to flip through the files.

"Those files with the badge will suffice, detective."

Matthias looked surprised at the other man, had he heard right? Was it finally over?

"Do you mean...?"

"Yes, detective, you're done."

The man, Toris, gave Matthias a small and gentle smile and the blonde could just hug him and kiss him and fuck him. Besides, The brown haired man wasn't bad looking at all, maybe if this was all over they could have a nice night under the stairs? Having sex and stuff? Matthias was momentarily distracted by thoughts which were the result of his personality and the fact that he hadn't gotten any for far too long now. Toris moved to his computer, furiously ticking away on the keyboard.

"Ah, here we are, Elizabeth White… 45 years old, residing at Britannia Angel's hospital due to medical problems…"

"Yes, that's her!"

"In possession of a house in downhill street 639 together with husband, Harris Johnson, who is currently still residing in that house. .. She has a son, but he was taken away in foster care… been admitted to the hospital for quite some years. I shall print these documents for you, alright?"

Matthias grinned. "Yes, please do that! Thanks a lot dude!"

And then, finally, after hours of searching and hoping, he acquired the new information that could bring them one step closer to discover which bastard had laid a finger on his best friend.

"So…Toris isn't it? How about you and your blonde friend come with me? I can assure a good night!"

He grinned sweetly (perverted) down at the now red-faced Toris, a high shriek the only warning as a fist adorned with bright red nails collided with his head, making a nice solid dent.

* * *

><p>Matthew was already sleeping soundly when that idiot Matthias finally decided to graze them with his company, his poor twin had worried and worried when they had discovered that Matthias still wasn't home when they returned to the hotel room. It had taken a lot of whining on his part to get Matthew into his bed and to stop pacing around, but as predicted, Mathew had fallen asleep as soon as his head fell on the pillow. Alfred himself, although he really wanted some shut eye too, decided to wait for the guy to come home, since he was a freaking hero and because he really, really, really wanted to know if Matthias had found something out. So yes, Matthew was already sleeping when the other came home, freaking late of course, out of breath and with a huge bump on his forehead. Alfred had planned to scold the other for being so late (because he almost never got to scold anyone, dammit!) but seeing Matthias in that pitiful state he wasn't able to scold him anymore… he was too busy laughing his ass of.<p>

"Dude, what the hell did you _do_?"

From his place on the bed Alfred saw the other grimace and softly close the door, after that he continued to remove his shoes, ignoring Alfred's laughter. He slowly moved towards his own bed and let himself fall on it with a loud sign. A low whiny sound rang through the room and Alfred let another snicker pass his lips.

"London sucks." The blonde man moaned.

"It does? Mattie and I had a blast." Alfred told the other happily. "Though everyone is really polite, kind of creepy, not really my thing. But Mattie seemed to like it, though that guy seems to like everything. Seriously do you know what he was reading this morning-"

"Alfred." Came the voice from the big man half-passed out on the bed. "Please shut up, I've had a very, very,_ very_ long day."

"Did you at least make any progress, old man?" Alfred loved messing with Matthias, even after all these years, it didn't lose any of its fun.

A low growl answered him. "I did." Alfred could just make out a raised hand waving vaguely towards the door. "It's in my coat, information on his mother. Took me forever to get."

Within seconds Alfred had grabbed the piece of paper and was back inside his warm comfortable bed, in the meantime Matthias had crawled into his bed too, clothes and all. Which was totally cool by his standards, but Alfred knew Matthew would have a fit the next morning (read, a Matthew fit; silently muttering to himself). Alfred interestedly read the information on the paper. There wasn't a whole lot on it, just the woman's name, house address (which was useful for them), marital status (she was married?), she had been married once before and had been staying in the Britannia Angel Hospital for a freakishly long time and of course, there was a mention of Arthur, but…

"Arthur was in foster care?"

Matthias, who undoubtedly had almost fallen asleep, groaned. "Apparently, now shut up, I want to sleep."

"Why do you think he was?" Alfred frowned, looking at the dates behind the information.

"Couldn't very well stay with an insane mother, could he?" The pillow smothered the sound of the man's voice considerably, but Alfred could still hear him.

"But… that can't be it…"

Matthias shot up. "For god's sake Alfred, are you pulling the same stunt you did at the hospital? Look, Arthur was a good guy but he wasn't a _saint_-"

"That's not what I meant." Alfred interrupted him.

"…What?"

"It says here… That Elizabeth was committed when she was 31 and Arthur would've been… around 13? Yeah, 13. But he was placed in foster care at the age of 15, it says right here."

This got the other's attention, Matthias looked up, frowning. "What? I hadn't even seen that yet."

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know, I really don't. I know that it isn't much information on that paper, but it's the only thing I could get out of them. We'll go to Elizabeth's old house tomorrow, see what's there, maybe talk to the husband."

Alfred let his eyes trail the letters of the husband's name. "That doctor said nobody visited the woman, but… why didn't the husband?"

Matthias shrugged, letting himself fall face first in the pillow again. "Maybe he's an asshole."

"Maybe…" Alfred lay the paper away, crawling deeper under the blankets and turning to lay on his side. From this position he could see Matthias lying with his back to him. Within minutes Alfred could hear the man's heavy breath, signalling that he was sleeping.

"I'll bet downhill street is a real nice place, with posh and expensive buildings." Alfred whispered to himself, silent as to not to wake the two others. "And Arthur lived in a great big mansion… that would be so _him_. With maids and servants and animals all around."

And with that thought Alfred fell asleep, with a smile on his face. Ignoring the insistent little voice in his head that kept telling him that if Arthur had such a nice life, why was he placed in foster care, why was his mother all alone in a small hospital room and finally, why would his big brother even bothered to move to America?

The following day they woke up early and Matthias bought a map to see where they should be headed. It was far too expensive to hire a cab every time they needed to go somewhere, so first the trio went to a car rental shop and picked out the most awful car ever; Alfred had wanted a nice shiny sport car but apparently they all thought he was an idiot for saying that, which wasn't cool ya know? Because he was super smart and stuff and his ideas were always super awesome.

But yeah, so they rented a car he never wanted his friends back in the good US of awesome A to see him in and went on the drive-of-hell, ever driven through London on the busiest day of the week, at a time when everybody went on a break? No? Never do! Even a soft spoken angel like Matthew was getting irritated and that was sure an indication that the drive sucked major bowling balls. Luckily, as they drove longer and longer, the busy streets seemed to vanish, making place for a more relaxed driving environment. Though, the more they drove and the closer they came to their destination, the crappier the neighbourhoods seemed to become.

Alfred had a suspicious feeling that it wouldn't be a mansion they would find at downhill street.

And he was right, the _one _time he didn't want to be.

Downhill street was an absolute mess, all the houses were ugly, filthy, broken, all the people walked around with grim faces and everything just screamed; poor. Arthur's mother's house wasn't much better, old and falling apart at the seams. It didn't sit well with Alfred, he had wanted Arthur to come from a better living environment. The three men made their way to the front door and, after discovering the bell was broken, knocked on the door.

Nobody.

They tried again but still didn't get an answer. Well, that was frustrating, it would've been nice if they could talk to the husband. Matthew and Matthias decided to look in the back and Alfred told them he would stay in cause the husband showed. While he was waiting he noticed an old, old, _old _woman with an equally old dog, she walked, leaning heavily on her walking stick, through her tiny garden and bend to pick up the newspaper that lay innocently in the grass. At least, she tried to bend, but her old age got in the way and she was having trouble getting the paper. Well, luckily for her he was a hero, Alfred smiled, he would help anyone in distress!

Alfred quickly approached the struggling woman and picked the newspaper from the grass with once fluid motion. The woman, startled, looked up and when she saw his friendly blue eyes, his easy smile and the newspaper in his helpful hand she promptly hit him on the kneepad with her walking stick.

"Thief! Stealing my newspaper, not today boy!" The lady moved from his kneepads to his head and it _hurt._ Who knew old ladies could hit so hard? Dear god he was getting beaten up!

"Oh! AH! Madam, please stop! I was just picking it up for you!"

"Spawn of the devil, bothering an old lady like me, well in my day you would've been hanged, hanged I tell you!"

"Here, HERE! Take it! Please god stop hitting me!" Alfred shoved the newspaper into the badass granny's hands. Badass granny immediately stopped harassing him and she clutched the paper tightly in her hands. "Don't steal from me again, lad!" She glared a glare of pure fire and hate at him.

"I wasn't stealing." Alfred tried to defend himself, afraid the woman would resort to her _stick of death_ again. "I picked it up _for you_."

It was surprising how swiftly those words changed the woman's behaviour. The glare melted away, she leaned on her cane again (heavily) and her face positively glowed with sunshine, rainbows and lollypops.

"Oh dear boy, you were trying to help me? What a good lad you are, helping a defenceless old woman like me." Alfred really didn't think the old lady was defenceless. "Will you be a good boy and come into my house, you're such a strong and capable boy and I'm having some troubles with the furniture, you see. You can have a nice cup of tea and help me move some stuff like the good strong boy you are."

Well, of course Alfred would help such a badass/sweet little old lady move some things, he was the hero after all!

"Of course! Oh! My brother and uncle-something will be back in a minute! They'll help too." He gave the woman a huge grin. The woman delightedly clapped her hands.

"Oh such sweet things you are! I'll go inside to set some tea for such brave men!"

Four minutes later all three of them were standing in the dimly lit living room.

Four _hours_ later and they finally finished everything the lady instructed them to do. Matthew and Matthias had wanted to bail but Alfred wouldn't let them; they had made a promise and a hero never went back on his promises! Tired, the three of them went to sit on the uncomfortable sofa, the old lady-Miss Wingon was her name- was still sitting on the same chair she had been sitting those four hours, and they all drank their tea. The old but big dog was sitting at the woman feet, chewing on a toy.

"Dearies, thank so much for helping me! God knows my neighbours never do anything for a poor old lady like me, it's simply horrid the way they act."

Matthias perked up. "Your neighbours… have you lived here long?"

The woman nodded. "Almost thirty years, right after my late husband died, terrible accident you see, terrible."

"I'm sorry." Alfred whispered, he hated seeing the woman sad.

"I wonder," Matthias continued. "can you tell us something about your neighbour to the right, a man?"

The woman scoffed. "A dimwit that one, does nothing but drink, horrible man. He's away to a friend's right now, he'll be back in a few days." She sipped her tea, her grey eyebrows in a frown. "She really should've found a better man, though she was not so much better herself"

"Miss White?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. Stupid woman, with her looks she could've had it all. Drugs and alcohol, a dangerous combination. Elizabeth was nothing but a foolish little tramp."

Alfred recoiled slightly, such sharp words.

"W-what about h-her s-s-son?" Matthew whispered, Alfred had forgotten he was there too. Apparently the woman too because she looked confused in his direction as if just realizing the soft spoken boy was there too.

"Yes Arthur, a nice enough boy, would help me around the house sometimes. But that boy was just like all the others, thinking nothing of making a ruckus in the middle of the night. No one ever took in account there was an elderly woman living in the neighbourhood. Though back then I was slightly younger, but not by much."

"How…" Alfred began. "how did they live? Where they happy?"

The granny put her teacup on the table. "No one who lives here is happy, lad, Elizabeth was a horrid mother with an even more horrible boyfriend and although Arthur was her son, he took more care of her than she took care of him."

Alfred diverted his gaze. Taking care of his own mother and later taking care of them. Had Arthur never had someone who took care of _him_?

"There was one." Alfred looked up, startled. Had he spoken out loud? "I think they took care of each other, Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy."

Both Matthew and him stiffened, remembering Arthurs final words.

Matthew was the first to speak. "F-francis B-bonnefoy?"

"Yes, handsome boy, but so very _French_. Francis and his snobby parents moved to the neighbourhood when he was around eight. Horrible people the Bonnefoys, thought they were so much _better _than the rest of us, would never visit a woman like me. Moved from France, apparently they had been some big shots in that horrid country but something went amiss and they had to move to London."

"Where they friends?"

"I honestly don't know, on the surface they hated each other, yet they were always together… and then, that one night…"

"One night?"

"Yes, That awful boyfriend was making a ruckus once again…"

_They were at it again, making so much noise that she couldn't even read her book in peace, those insufferable gits! What did she do to end up with such noisy neighbours, rude too; wouldn't even help her when she asked for simple house chores, things she couldn't do anymore, her body was too old for that kind of work. Luckily it was silent again now, Mrs Wingon tried once again to concentrate on her book, slurping tea from a teacup. It really was horrid that her neighbours, all of them, weren't accommodating her better, selfish, all of them! _

_A loud scream interrupted her thoughts and the old lady sighed as the screaming began again, simply disgusting, bothering an old lady like her with their petty fights and whatnot. She sighed again when the screaming was accompanied with a loud crash and this time not only the man and woman were yelling; a younger voice had joined them. Pity, the woman had thought the young boy to be more considerate, bothering his elders like that, how unsightly. When the voices – especially that of the man- became even louder and a loud piercing scream once again ripped through the silent evening she had enough. Determinately and with considerable effort the woman heaved herself up from the chair and whistled softly, attracting the attention of her sweetheart. Lilly came immediately, her tong hanging out and breathing heavily. The old lady smiled affectionately down at the dog, her sweet little Lilly. Well little, she wasn't little, being a Sint Bernard, but she was still her little doggy-smoggy. Mrs Wingon moved towards the door, Lilly dutifully following her, tail wagging. She would tell them they should keep it down, she was trying to read after all and it was just terrible how they were disturbing an old lady like her, they would listen to her; her neighbour was terribly afraid of her sweet little Lilly. _

_The old woman shivered when she stepped outside, it being much colder than she had expected, the noise was louder now too and she frowned her eyebrows in annoyance, Lilly stepping loyally beside her, she slowly made her way towards the house of her neighbours. She had almost crossed her garden when the front door of the other house slammed open. Two people appeared, the little tramp's despicably loud boyfriend was one of them, the other was Arthur, the son of said despicable tramp. Mrs Wingon despised the boyfriend the most, since he was often responsible for all the noise in that house, he was rude too! Never wanted to help an old lady like herself out. The old woman remembered a time when she wasn't being bothered by such sounds from that house, years ago, the _one _time that little tramp had found a good man, a good husband. Mrs Wingon had liked that man, he would always check up on her and bring a fresh batch of those delicious cookies with him. But, in the end her open-her-legs-to-anyone-neighbour had messed that relationship up royally. _

_The boyfriend was dragging Arthur out of the house by the arm, the grip looked frim, tight and forceful and the boy stumbled to keep up with the man's long legs. The big man's face was red and the insufferable git kept shouting awful obscenities, beside the old woman Lilly started to growl. Finally the man threw Arthur on the ground and after a few more shouted insults the man whirled around and stormed into the house once again, slamming the door closed, there was one last high scream from inside before all went silent again; Mrs Wingon knew she wouldn't be bothered by her neighbours again that night, though it seemed that the family two houses to the right were getting in a fight too, bloody awful neighbourhood this was. The woman glanced at the boy sitting on the dirty ground, he seemed fine enough and she wasn't some charitable organisation, patting Lilly gently on the head Mrs Wington decided it would be best to return to her house. A voice halted her in her tracks, and when she turned around and looked towards Arthur once again, the French boy with the snobby I'm-better-than-you parents was walking Arthur's way. Interested, Mrs Wingon kept standing there, partly hidden by the large trees and the dark night sky; the French boy, Francis, fascinated her; she just knew that the boy would grow up to be extremely handsome and successful, she always had an eye for those things._

"_Arthur is that you?" Francis walked straight towards the boy still sitting on the ground, his steps determent and steady. When he reached the other boy, the French lad crouched before the other, hands on his knees. "You look pitiful, mon ami." _

_Arthur's head seemed to shoot up and if Mrs Wangon had been standing a little closer she was sure she would've seen the boy's eyes burning with a fierce fire. That same look Arthur always shot the French boy; nobody was really sure what to make of the two boy's relationship, they seemed to be always fighting and they said they hated each other's guts, but you could always find them together, it was quite strange. _

"_Oh, shut up frog, did you come here to insult me or something?" Arthur spat at the other, his impressive eyebrows frowned in annoyance. _

"_Non, I came here to see if I could be of some assistance, sourcils, I didn't expect you to be in such an undignified state though, quite despicable, is it not?"_

"_Shut it and no, I don't need your 'assistance', you never know what that entails with you, bloody pervert. Now will you leave? You're French perfume in smothering me." _

_Mrs Wangon had heard the stories about Francis, although the boy was barely thirteen years old, he seemed to have gained quite a reputation. Also, Arthur sure wasn't lying about the boys perfume, she could smell it from way over there and Lilly was whimpering, sticking her cute little nose in the dirt to escape the smell._

"_Je désolé! You wound me, dear Arthur, I am merely a lover of romance, no pervert." The boy mockingly placed his hand on his heart, before he seemed to notice something and moved to touch the other boys lip. Arthur couldn't contain a tiny flinch. "You have a split lip." Francis's tone had changed, becoming more serious. "Do you have other injuries I should know about, mon petit lapin?" _

_Arthur slapped the other's hand away and moved to stand, looming over the still crouched down Francis. "Don't call me that, it's a horrid nickname. And no, I don't have other injuries thank-you-very-much. Now will you-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

_Mrs Wingon blushed as Francis stood up in one fluid movement and lifted the other boy's shirt. It seemed that the pervert rumours had some truth in them._

"_No other injuries? I'm merely checking if you're not lying, my dear Arthur. Honhonhon, what perky nipples you have."_

"_LET GO!" Arthur tried to pry the offending hand of his person but Fancis was persistent. A few seconds later the French boy lowered the other's shirt once again, and grinned (leered). "Très magnifique , it seems that you weren't lying, you've improved my dear." Calculating, Francis looked down towards the other boys trousers. "Though… maybe beneath your horrid pants…"_

"_Don't even think about removing my trousers, frenchie. And stop speaking so much frog-language, it's quite annoying! Now are we going to your house or not?"_

"_Oui, my lovely parents are sleeping, I can sneak you in without any problems."_

"_Good, let's go. I'm freezing my arse off here!"_

"_And what a nice derrière it-"_

"_One more word and I'm shoving your face against the wall, repeatedly."_

_Both boys started walking towards the other boys house._

"_You really need an attitude adjustment, cher."_

"_And you need to learn to respect peoples personal space."_

_Mrs Wangon kept looking at the two boys until the two disappeared inside the other's house, bickering all the way. Music was blasting somewhere far away and the shouting two houses to the right had increased in volume, but she found that this time she didn't mind. The two boy's relationship, it fascinated her, and she couldn't help but notice that beneath the insults and sharp looks there was something more between them. Something she had caught a glimpse of that evening. Shrugging she turned around and made the tiring trip back towards her bedroom, she needed a good night sleep. _

_Lilly followed her like the sweet loyal dog she was. _

All three where silent after that story and Alfred had his fist clenched, the story was true he knew that, the way Arthur behaved was just so Arthur. But at the same time he wished it wasn't, because what shocked him the most wasn't some friendship Arthur seemed to have had with a French boy, it was the fact that Arthur had been dragged out of his own home, and discarded in the garden like… like trash. Francis had asked if he had sustained any _injuries_ for god's sake!

"Did…" next to him Matthias started talking again. "That sort of thing happen often, I mean… the neighbours making a 'ruckus'?"

The woman nodded, clearly angry about it. "Yes, very often, disgraceful isn't it? Bothering an old lady like m-"

"Why didn't you call the police?" Matthew's hand encircled his, Alfred knew his voice sounded cold, but he didn't care. "why didn't they help?"

"I called plenty about noise complaint, dear boy, but-"

"Not for you! For Arthur and his mother! Obviously something very _wrong _was happening there!" Had that been the reason Arthur was send to foster care?

Alfred knew he was losing control over his anger, just like the day before. But it was just so hard to hear all those things. It was hard to imagine that his brother had been through those things, it wasn't right, Arthur was meant to live in a great mansion with loving parents and lots of friends.

"So rude! Watch your manners boy!" The woman looked terribly insulted and anger was apparent in her eyes. She wasn't an badass super granny, Alfred realised, she was a selfish, bitter old woman who ignored the needs of a thirteen year old boy alone in the middle of the night.

"Mrs Wingon," Matthias started, apparently calm, but Alfred could see how tense he was. "Surely you could've alerted the police something fishy was going on?"

"I don't think you understand, Mister, We live at the bottom of society, which means that the police never comes to help us, they only come to arrest and torment us. No matter if I called or not, they wouldn't have come. That's the reality."

"B-but Arthur w-was placed in foster c-c-care, w-wasn't h-he? A-after Elizabeth White was admitted to the hospital."

"Foster care? Never knew about that. Elizabeth's ex-husband admitted her to the hospital, apparently he came back to check up on her."

"So Arthur stayed with this ex-husband after she was admitted?"

"Goodness no, a few months before Elizabeth was admitted Arthur disappeared, the ex-husband threw a right fit about that."

"Disappeared?" They all said straight at that.

"One day he was just gone, I never saw him anymore. Elizabeth and the boyfriend never said a word about it. I take it he had enough and ran away."

Alfred looked unbelievingly at the woman, a child had disappeared, hadn't she thought that was strange?

"And you still didn't call anyone?"

"I never stick my nose in other people's dirty laundry."

She just didn't care, did she? She had never cared. She only seemed to care about herself. Alfred was ready to lunge at her, no matter how old and dangerous she was. Matthias steady hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"That's enough Alfred, We will visit the Bonnefoys too, they live a few houses over?"

Matthias hand was squeezing his shoulder like no tomorrow, he must be angrier than he let on. Alfred closed his eyes, despite his anger and frustration he had to admit that they had found some things out; apparently Arthur had lived in this neighbourhood until he was thirteen and had disappeared from his house a few months before Elizabeth White had been admitted. At fifteen he would appear in foster care; that was a gap of two years, where had he lived those two years?

"No not anymore, Mrs Bonnefoys dream came true, they escaped from this place. Besides, if you want to talk to Francis, forget it. It's impossible."

What?

"Impossible? Why?"

"Go to the Bonnefoys, you'll understand. Now get out of my house, I'm tired."

* * *

><p>The ringing of the phone starled him out of his toughts, who would be calling him?<p>

One look at his cell and his question was answered.

Toris.

"Hello, sweet Toris, you have news, da?"

"H-Hey I-Ivan, Yes, I don't k-know if it's important but..."

"Tell me."

"Some guy is investigating Arthur's mother... He asked for information."

"Very interesting, did you give him any information?"

"Y-yes, b-but the bare m-minimum."

"Good, very good. now, which dimwit could possibly want to investigate kind, fierce Arthur? Maybe I should get my pipe, da?"

* * *

><p>A letter from you<p>

Mean, evil, despicable Arthur,

Do you even know what you've done? I will take hours, _hours_ to get that nasty stuff out of my hair!

Mommy says she hates you now and you are bad for me. She says big ten-year-old boys like us should never act like this.

She says I can't play with you anymore, and I don't care! Because you're not my friend, no from today on… you are my rival.

You better be ready!

Bye,

Francis.

* * *

><p>Good? Bad? Terrible-you-should-stop-writing-immidiately? Tell me! Tell me! Reviews are seriously important! It motivates me and helps me with my story! So yeah... R&amp;R please ;)<p>

Ow and don't worry, this isn't the last you'll hear about Francis, he'll be appearing in a whole lot of flashbacks, isn't that cool~?

Oh and I put it up but I had to change something so I put the changed version up. I hope all goes well ans the edited version will appear.

Oh, BTW about Matthew's America bashing thing in the beginning, I have nothing against americans! It's just that I see Alfred as the stereotypical american, and I was just listening to a song on youtube about stereotypes; ('I think I love you more than the japanese like tentical p*rn, let's come together and live in this world like a unibrow on a indian girl and we should dance, dance, dance to these stereotypes~!') which is a hilarious song, yeah good stuff~! We all get stereotyped hahaha.

(I do not own the stereotype song ;) )

Right. I think I killed my brain with my exams or something.

But yeah, I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible because a month is just far too long, M'sorry!

Fluffyfun91, out!


	5. Cecille and Armound Bonnefoy

**I do not own Hetalia**

**A chappie just before the new year!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 Cecille and Armound Bonnefoy<strong>

Cecille Bonnefoy was rather happy with her garden, she had spent years and years working on it and she rather expected it to win again this year; several neighbourhood`s would compete in all sorts of activities and accomplishments; weightlifting, cooking, gardening… the list would go on and on. Cecille would always win the price for best garden while her talented and charming husband would get first price for his excellent cooking abilities. It was a nice event, full of nice people, it had _quality_. Cecille Bonnefoy liked quality, she liked elegance, poise. It was the way she presented herself, nobody in their nice neighbourhood, nobody living in their grand mansions even, had a clue she once lived alongside beggars and thieves. It had been a short period in her life, admittedly, but it had been the absolute worst few years she ever experienced. She didn't like to dwell on those years, it made her feel sad and depressed. Sometimes, when she found something that reminded her of that horrid time, she would curl up in her bed, sobbing and not resurface for several days. Her sweet husband never blamed her for this, he always looked a little relieved; telling her to let it all out.

Her husband, Armound Bonnefoy was a good man. Cecille knew this very well, his support for her never wavered even a little, his love was never doubted. He was prideful she had to admit, sometimes a little too much, couldn't let any injustice go, even if it didn't concern them. That was the one flaw Cecille could detect in her husband, one flaw only, while she herself had many, she knew this.

A bit of weed had festered itself in her beautiful flowerbed, irritated, she pulled it out. Disgraceful, her garden had to be perfect for the upcoming show. Everything had to be perfect. Looking her garden over one more time, which took a grand total of fifteen minutes; it was a very big garden, she ended up at the huge gate. Next to it stood one of their employed guards, nobody they didn't know got in or out. She turned around and once again looked upon the mansion, their mansion, with awe and pride; they had made it, they had returned to their status they had back in France. More than that; they were even better off, their business was legit, the neighbours loved them and her family wasn't looking over their shoulders anymore. Everything they owned was _earned _by their own blood, sweat and tears. She should be happy, proud ecstatic. She was.

Yet, she couldn't smile anymore.

Sighing, she walked back to the house, the sky was already darkening and she knew that Armound would worry, even though nobody could enter their estate without their consent. She liked this time of day, the time between the day and the evening; the last rays of sunshine dying out, the sky orange, it made the world look so different. Almost surreal, as if there was another world out there. Cecille Bonnefoy shook her head, it was so unlike her to be that airheaded.

As she had expected, her lovely husband was waiting for her when she arrived, he was standing in the door opening and was gently smiling. He hadn't changed in all those years they had been married, he was the same gentle soul he'd always been. Well, appearance wise he had changed of course; his hair was no longer that deep black she had loved so much, no it had greyed considerably making him look older, but also smart and sophisticated. There were wrinkles all over his face and his eyes had sunken into his head a little. Well, her husband _was_ pushing fifty after all, he had every right to show his age on his body; she herself was showing signs of aging too after all, no matter how desperately she tried to slow the process down.

"You've been away for a while," her husband grabbed her hand and led her inside, exactly the way he had done when they were young; like a princess. He had never treated her any different. "Is the garden as you wish it?"

"It is." She answered him, while they retired to the living room, the fireplace already sporting a roaring fire. They moved to sit on the couch, it was soft, comfortable, just like she loved it. She gave her husband a fond look but she still couldn't manage a smile. "I'm sure the neighbours will appreciate it's beauty too."

"I'm sure they will," Armound answered her. "you've been busy with it."

Cecille nodded, stiffening a little. "It is important." Her husband had sounded anxious. "Is something the matter, Armound?"

"Cecille, honey…" he started, pausing as if he tried to work himself to say the desired words. "I got a message today."

"A message?" Surely her husband wasn't acting so peculiar about some message?

"Oui," He grabbed her hands in a steady grip. "from a certain Matthias Kohler."

Matthias Kohler? She did not know such a man. "Is that a business associate, Mon ange?"

"Non…It is not." He told her. "He's accompanying two young men, they want to ask us some questions…"

"Pourquoi? Questions? What in the world would they want from us?" She did not understand why her husband looked so uncomfortable. He had that look on his face, that look he always had when he was afraid his words would hurt her. "Armound? What are the younglings names?"

"They will arrive shortly, we must make them feel comfortable and be hospitable." He husband was ignoring her question, she knew. But she wouldn't have that.

"Their names, Armound."

"…Matthew Williams and Alfred Jones."

She did not understand, all three names she did not know, all three names did nothing to her. Why was Armound still looking so nervous and even a little sad. She did not get why her husband would behave such a way, it was unnerving. She was by no means delicate; she was a strong, proud woman. Why was he treating her like his words would break her very being?

When his next words reached her, she knew exactly why.

"They're Arthur's family…They want to ask some questions about Arthur Kirkland."

She froze. Cold hands gripped her heart, her eyes widened and she clenched her fists. Her husband always wanted to assist everybody, even the ones that didn't deserve it. It was his flaw, a flaw, normally so small, looked incredibly huge at that moment.

"And you told them they could come!" She spat at him, venom coating her voice.

"Ma chérie…"

"Non! I will not have these people in my house!" At the exact moment she said that, a loud buzzer sounded through the house, signalling someone was standing at the gate. A fierce hate came over her, she could feel her hands shaking. Without a second thought, she whirled around and sprinted back across the garden, towards the gate. Faster than she had run in a long while, her breath ragged and tired, her high heels clicking on the ground, very nearly going through her ankle. Then, within minutes, she finally arrived.

"Stop!" She screamed at the guard, who was about to open the gate. "Don't let them in! Don't open it!"

Exhausted, she came to stop before the surprised guard, huffing and puffing. The three people behind the gate –All three blonde, she noticed- looked wide-eyed at her. They seemed surprised, surprised she had shown up so suddenly, screaming to not let them inside. She didn't care, oh how she didn't care at all.

"Mrs Bonnefoy," The biggest blonde said. "I talked to your husband, he said-"

"He was wrong." She sneered at him, moving to stand straight, like the proud and strong woman she was. "I don't want any of you near my house. Do you get it?"

"But-" the second biggest blonde protested, his sky blue eyes so much like her son's.

"Get out."

They didn't move and she was once again losing her composure. Why did that boy have the same eyes?

"Get out, Get out, GET OUT!"

She didn't stop screaming those words until their car was no longer in sight.

* * *

><p>They were all sitting a little dejectedly in the cosy café. It wasn't surprising though, at that moment they felt kind off useless. At least, Alfred sure did. It was just all so uncool, they had all suspected to get a whole lot of information from the Bonnefoy's, but in the end they got absolutely nada, zip, nothing. It was complete BS, that's what it was!<p>

It had already been two days since that crazy Bonnefoy lady had chased them from her property, even though Matthias had called beforehand; the husband had told them they could come! They hadn't expected Mrs Bonnefoy to come sprinting through her garden towards them screaming they should get out. Why did she do that? They were so awesome! It was just crappy as hell, that's what it was!

So, yeah, it had been two days since they had been chased away. Since then, they had tried to call a few times, but now, even the husband didn't want to welcome them into the Bonnefoy home anymore. To make matters worse; their second trip to downhill street had been unsuccessful too; no other neighbours gave them the time of day and Elizabeth White's husband still hadn't returned.

So for now, it seemed they had reached a dead end. Of course, a hero would never give up. That was why Alfred suddenly came up with something brilliant. Something so smart he would swear he was a total genius. He didn't know how he came up with it, but the fact remained that he did.

It was so _obvious._

They had seen a lot of flyers around that expensive street, flyers for some sort of contest, a celebration. All in the neighbourhood would attend in nice dresses and suits at the mansion of the person who was the host that year. Furthermore, the guard at the gate had told them –right before Cecille Bonnefoy interrupted him- that, for god's sake, they should be careful to mind the garden and to only walk onto the stone path, because the garden was nominated _for a price. _Alfred grinned, he would bet his whole collection of comic books that the Bonnefoy's would attend that little celebration on the flyer. That little party was still in need of some talented waiters.

Heh.

They were so going to crash that thing.

Alfred happily told the other two his ingenious plan, who seemed –to Alfred's annoyance- surprised that he came up with it. After that a quick phone call and Matthias extensive flirting was enough to get them the jobs. This probably wouldn't have been so easy if there had been enough waiters, but apparently there weren't so many that wanted to work on such an event. Matthias cheerfully commented that it would probably be because those rich people were complete assholes.

They would be needed the following week.

So all three brushed up on their skills, smuggling trays and glasses into their hotel rooms and trying to walk with those. Matthias was absolutely terrible at it, Matthew was slightly better but Alfred was pleased to see he was the best of all three. During that week they also went back to downhill street a total of three times. All three times they were disappointed; where ever the husband had went off too, he wasn't going back anytime soon.

And then, after an exhausting week of training and driving around, it was finally there; the day of the big event. They had to arrive a few hours earlier, and the whole way there Alfred was bouncing in his seat; this was so exciting! However, he noticed that Mattie was nervous and Matthias seemed disinterested. Alfred didn't know why he was excited, but he felt like he was going on an adventure. Which they weren't doing. They were just going to work and try to wiggle some information out of some rich old people.

When they arrived, all were shocked by the sheer size of the building. It was freaking huge, more huge even than the Bonnefoy's. Whoever lived there sure was loaded, there was all kinds of servants bustling around the place, moving in a hurry so it seemed. A middle aged lady in expensive clothing was standing in the middle of the garden, shouting all kinds of orders, judging by the expression of her face she was not happy with how things were going, she seemed a real hard ass.

No later had they stepped out of a car, did a rather well suited servant appear and ushered them inside. Alfred was kind of feeling sorry for the man, he seemed worn out. The appropriate clothes were hastily stuffed into their hands and the exhausted servant told them to 'hurry up and get dressed, there is much to do'.

And they did just that.

The suit they had to put on looked, just like everything else, _really _expensive.

Memories assaulted him as he put on his tie.

* * *

><p><em>Alfred looked at himself in the mirror, he wasn't used to seeing himself so dressed up. The suit he was wearing looked incredibly good on him, but it was still uncomfortable to wear; much too stiff and tight. He missed his regular clothing, his baggy jeans and T-shirts.<em>

_Defiantly, he glared at the last remaining piece of clothing lying on the bed._

_No way he was wearing that._

"_You're going to have to wear a tie, Alfred" A soft voice spoke behind him. "Arthur will insist."_

_Alfred turned to his twin brother, who was standing directly behind him, also clad in a nice suit. Matthew looked awesome, too, Alfred had to admit. He was even wearing the tie, which added to his sophisticated look. _

"_Screw Arthur! Mattie, don't you find this getup incredibly uncomfortable?"_

_Matthew sighed and walked towards the door. "You shouldn't make a big deal about it, Alfred, it's just a suit." _

"_It's principle that counts!" _

"_Alfred that doesn't make any sense." Matthew opened the door and walked through it. "I'm going downstairs. See you in a minute okay?"_

_Alfred grumbled a reply and turned towards the mirror again, making a face at his uptight clothing. His friends would laugh themselves in a coma if they saw him now!_

_A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts, without waiting for a reply Arthur stepped into his room also clad in formal wear. _

"_Oh Alfred! You look so handsome!" Arthur smiled and walked towards him. "I came to check on you, we're almost leaving."_

_Alfred turned around. "I'm ready Artie! We can get this party started!" He turned his 1000 Watt grin towards his brother._

"…_You're not wearing your tie…"_

"_It will only deprive from my awesome look, now, let's go!" _

"_Wear the tie, Alfred."_

"_But Artiiieeeeeeee, It's uncomfortable!"_

"_Wear it."_

"_I don't wannaaaaa."_

"_Oh good god." Arthur snapped, he walked towards Alfred while grabbing the tie. "I'll do it for you."_

"_But Artie…!" He started to protest, but it was already too late. Arthur seemed determent to finish his evil plan. He had already slung the offending object around his neck. "Sod it Alfred, you want to look presentable tonight don't you? Now pay attention so you can tie it on your own next time."_

_Alfred turned red. "I know how to tie a tie, Arthur!"_

"_Sure you do, Alfred." Arthur began to tie the damn thing and Alfred followed his every move, marvelling how complicated it was. "All done!" Arthur told him with a shit eating grin on his face. "You look like a real gentleman!"_

_Alfred turned to the mirror and made a face; sure, he looked good, but that wasn't the point! How could he ever face his friends after this? Moreover, how could he survive the night in this incredibly uncomfortable suit-thingy._

"_You owe me for this, Arthur."_

"_I know, Alfie, I know. Now go downstairs; your brother is waiting."_

He hadn't worn a suit since the funeral.

* * *

><p>Matthew did his very best, but it was <em>hard.<em>

The whole night people kept bumping him and nobody seemed to notice him. To top it all off they hadn't yet seen the Bonnefoy's, at least, they hadn't seen Mrs Bonnefoy… maybe they had seen Mr Bonnefoy but they didn't know how he looked, so that didn't help much. _On top off that_, Matthias and Alfred were doing rather good and Matthew couldn't help but feel inferior. After he was shoved aside again, making all the food on the tray spill on the floor, Matthew had enough. He needed a break and he needed it now, a second to get a breath of fresh air.

It's not like he would be missed.

Swiftly the blonde walked across the room and through the hall, the doors were open and there were several guests sitting in the chairs outside. Neither of them seemed to notice him and he walked further into the garden, so far that he wouldn't be seen, and he couldn't hear those people anymore.

Sighing, Matthew sat down. Those guests had been real snobs and Matthew was normally not so fast to judge a person. But all of those people acted like they were so much better and servants like him were shot down with looks, looks that clearly stated they were nothing but inferior. It was Britain's upper class, and Matthew sincerely hoped he never had to see those people again, he hoped Armound Bonnefoy would be nicer, if they even found him that is.

"Hey you, shouldn't you be working?"

Matthew froze. Was he busted? What would they do?

Slowly he turned around and he sighed a breath of relief when he noticed the person who had talked to him. The tall stranger was wearing a servant's uniform just like he was and Matthew remembered him to be one of the other imported help. The man was wearing a scarf around his neck, probably because it was getting rather chilly and he had blonde hair, hair that seemed to be defying gravity. He had a rather intimidating presence, being big and tall an looking kind of cool.

When the other started to stare at him rather strangely, Matthew realised he hadn't said anything back.

"I-I w-w-w-was taking a b-break, I-I h-hope it i-isn't against the r-r-rules?" After all, he needed a break; they had been balancing heavy trays of foul smelling food for hours now.

The man laughed. "Relax kid, I wasn't planning to rad you out." Now that Matthew looked closer, he saw that the man (or boy) looked roughly the same age as him. "But it sure is against the rules, these people are real tyrants."

The boy went to sit next to him. "But I needed a smoke, so I had to sneak out." With that the other took out a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, sticking it between his lips. He lighted it with an bright orange lighter and exhaled the smoke slowly, seeming to relax instantly. After that, he offered one to Matthew too.

"N-no, T-thank y-you…" Matthew paused, not wanting to be rude but still wanting to tell the other off for smoking. "Y-you know…t-these are very b-b-b-bad f-for you!"

The stranger laughed again, a loud booming laugh. "No shit, I know. But there are a lot of things bad for you, you know? I'm Lars by the way." The blonde extended his hand and Matthew took it, relieved that the other didn't seem to be mad at him for pointing out the obvious.

"I-I'm M-matthew."

"Nice to meet you." Lars nodded at him and Matthew noticed a scar on his forehead. "So, you needed to get out too? Their snobby talk get to you?"

"N-no, I-I-I just…well, t-they kept b-b-bumping i-into me, I s-suppose t-they didn't n-n-notice me."

Lars eyebrows shot up. "Didn't notice you? Fuck, how stupid are they? You're pretty noticeable to me. I noticed you right from the beginning. When I saw you leave, I thought something might be wrong. Us lower income folk has to stick together, you know?"

Matthew felt the blood rush to his face, this person had noticed him? Had cared enough to follow him to make sure he was alright? For some people it might've been creepy, but not for Matthew, he wasn't used to it. Mostly people just forgot his very existence.

"Y-your p-probably thinking a-about my b-b-brother, you must've n-noticed him i-instead of m-me, A-alfred." Matthew told the tall man.

"Loudmouth?" Lars gave a snort. "No, not him. That boy never shuts up does he? Like we need a 'hero-servant'." Matthew had to laugh at this, his brother was so weird at times.

"I-I guess he can be a l-little s-strange." Lars gave him a smile in return and Matthew had to rethink his earlier observation; Lars didn't seem all that intimidating after all.

They continued to sit there for a while, complaining about the snobby people they had to serve, laughing at Alfred's crazy antics, discussing the other servants (although Matthew didn't really knew them). It seemed that Lars was working jobs like this for a while now and he would mostly see the same people turn up at those jobs, so he knew a lot about the others. Matthew listened in fascination as Lars told him all kind of stories about the things he had seen while working; Lars had been living in London for six months now and he was saving up to continue his travels. Because that was what he wanted to do; travel. He came from a rather poor family in the Netherlands and when the school kicked him out for his drug habit (Matthew was a little startled at that) Lars had decided to see the world. He had gotten as far as France and now England, after that money had been spend and he needed to get more cash before he could continue his travels. Matthew was intrigued, what Lars was doing was foolish and rash, but it was exciting and quite an adventure.

Matthew would've never dared to do something like that.

But Lars did make him feel happy; never once did he seem to complain about the obvious stutter in Matthew's voice and he seemed genuinely interested when Matthew began to talk a little about himself, about his brother, about Matthias and finally, Matthew told Lars a little about Arthur. Not the depressing things, not the fact that the blonde had died or the things they had discovered or the crippling guilt that still consumed him. No, he told Lars about late-night bed stories, about football games, about disastrous cooking lessons and amusing speeches. It was nice, nice to talk about his big brother without that cloud of depression hanging over the conversation.

Actually, it was so nice, that Matthew forgot he actually should be working.

Two hours had passed in a blink of an eye.

* * *

><p>After the award ceremony, in which his wife had won first place for her garden once again, Armound found himself suddenly surrounded by three servants and he knew immediately who they were. He was perceptive like that.<p>

"Are you mister Bonnefoy?" The oldest blonde asked him. "They called you up on the stage, so I assumed… We called a while back… regarding Arthur and your son."

Armound nodded. "come."

He led them to the abandoned room, looking behind his shoulder to see his wife in a deep conversation with one of her friends, the medal tightly in her grip. When he had ushered all three of them into the room, he firmly shut the door; he didn't want anyone to ease drop. He knew very well why the three had come, Kohler had explained it to him earlier. Armound took a deep breath and turned to the three, admittedly large, men. They all wore anxious expressions and Armound understood they had planned this all out, the only reason they were there was because of the information he possessed. He felt too guilty about his behaviour in the past, or lack thereof, to not tell Arthur's friends the truth.

He didn't linger on trivial matters, he wasn't that kind of guy.

"What do you want to ask?"

"We want to know about Arthur." Matthias Kohler said. "everything you know, everything that seems important."

"Yes!" The younger blonder and happier blonde spoke up. "And what was the deal with your wife kicking us from your house?"

Armound guided the men further in the room and took a moment to decide where to begin. He decided his questions could wait, all three looked desperate for information.

"I'm sorry about Cecille. She and Arthur never had the best relationship."

He looked each of them in the eyes.

"Alright." He started. "I should begin at the very beginning then…"

* * *

><p><em>He couldn't believe it, after all he had been in France, they were now reduced to this… beside him, his beautiful wife broke down in tears and held their eight year old son close to her chest, trying to shield him from the place he would live in from now on. It was all Armounds fault, off course, his addiction to gambling had ruined all three of them, it had destroyed his company, his dreams and his family's future. He thanked god every single day that it hadn't destroyed his marriage. The debt collectors had been vicious and after his company had been declared bankrupt, he lost all his friends and the death threats from people he owed money to became louder and louder. After that, they decided to leave their beloved France behind and seek a new life, in London.<em>

_Off course, with the limited money they possessed, it wasn't much of a life. He had known it, still, it was a big shock to behold the neighbourhood his family had to life in. __The people__ they had to live with. In short, downhill street looked absolutely horrid, the houses were rundown and dirty, the streets littered with filth and none of the people living there looked especially happy. _

_Wishing he had been a better man, wishing his wife and young son would've been spared this fate, Armound guided his family towards there new house._

_The first night hadn't been the worse they spend in that house, but nevertheless, it had been horrid. He had held his wife when she wept and wept. As a the night was filled with loud music, with yells and screams, all coming from the other houses in downhill street. Armound was so very, very afraid. How were they supposed to raise their little Francis in a place like that?_

_Appalled by the people in that street, people that were so very below them in every sense of the word, Armound and Cecille isolated themselves from the neighbourhood. They didn't wish contact with any of them, they were better, Armound knew this for certain. They would escape this terrible fate, this terrible life. Cecille was even more certain of this fact, she told everyone her family would be rich, successful again, she told everyone they were not like those others. The people in downhill street hated them, that was for sure, but it was not a dangerous hate. It was more like a 'don't talk to me and I won't talk to you' hate. _

_Yes, both Bonnefoy's were content to ignore the world, waiting, until their chances turned and they would return to the people they were supposed to be._

_It was too bad Francis didn't share this sentiment._

_Francis had always been a bright social kid and it didn't take long for him to befriend the neighbours boy. The boy of a whore, Cecille always said disdainfully. It was a much known fact that their blonde haired neighbour would open her legs to almost everybody. Her son was said to be a bastard, said to be conceived in her teen years, his father had obviously bailed, though there was surprisingly little known about that man, other than that he wasn't in the picture anymore. Thereafter, the woman had gone from man to man, until she had at last married. To a good man, many had told them, but their relationship had gone sour a year before the Bonnefoy's moved there. Supposedly their neighbour had been not a very faithful wife, surprise surprise, and the man had left. _

_It was a typical story for the neighbourhood, many more circled around about the other people living there. But it was that story they were interested in, since their son was interacting with the child of that woman. Both Cecille and he had been appalled when, one day, their son brought home Arthur Kirkland. The bastard child, with messy and unkempt blonde hair, green eyes and scratches on his face. _

_Every attempt to nip the growing friendship in the butt had been futile and after a while both had given up on their attempts. Arthur wasn't allowed in their house, but outside little could been done. It seemed their son was really stubborn. _

_The friendship was a strange one, both boys did nothing but argue and curse. They were always insulting each other and never seemed to exchange civil conversation. But Armound could see that beneath this all, they cared about each other quite a lot. Over time, Armound accepted the friendship and even found that Arthur wasn't so bad. Armound wanted nothing more to shield his son from the violence and hardships from the world, but that wasn't a reality that existed in the place they lived in. To spare his wife Armound didn't associate with their neighbours much, didn't meddle in their business. But he could see his son's disappointed looks when once again the shouting and screaming started up, when they could hear the violence going on, when it was obvious someone out there needed help and Armound did nothing. _

_Yes, Armound wanted to shield his son. It wasn't much later that he figured out he did no such thing; the only thing he taught his son was how much of a coward his father was. _

_And so the years went on, his son grew older and bolder. No longer did the boy sit idly by when the screaming started, when another fight broke out. The boy simply marched out of the house, ignoring his mother's desperate pleading, and went to do god-knows-what. He was never injured, so Armound guessed the boy didn't confront Arthur's step father, which would have been foolish anyway, but Francis would often be away for whole nights._

_Armound did not know much about his son's private life, he was often away to work, work, work. His job didn't pay much and they needed all the money they could get. To top it all off Cecille got sick, very sick. If this had happened back in France, it wouldn't have been that serious. But medicine was expensive and they needed every penny to put food on the table. As the years went by, Francis seemed to be away more and more, coming home only occasionally and Armound never saw Arthur anymore. Though he wanted his son away from any such influence, the disappearance of the boy did worry him. _

_Then, one day, when money was especially tight and the future looked desperately bleak, Francis walked up to him and handed over a bundle of cash. A lot of it, enough to get medicine for Cecille. Off course, Armound did wonder and ask where the boy had gotten the money from, but his relief was more immense than his worry. He wanted to save his wife. He accepted the money. _

_He had been a utter fool._

_His wife would always blame Arthur for straying their son to the wrong path, but she was wrong. He knew it, he didn't know where Francis went, where he got the money, but Armound knew it couldn't have been good. Arthur didn't make Francis go the wrong way, didn't destroy any chance of a future, no, their circumstances did. Cecille just had to blame that poor boy, because if she didn't she needed to admit to herself that it was her sickness that drove their son to find alternative ways to find money. Just like he had admitted to himself that he let his underage son solve their problems._

_But no matter who was to blame, the fact remained that their life changed dramatically a few months after their son's sixteenth birthday. A change his wife still couldn't face, a change she still had to blame on Arthur Kirkland, because the reality was so much more painful. Eventually, they managed to leave that awful neighbourhood but they could never be the same again. They had gained a lot of scars and lost a son in those years living in poverty. Those years Cecille never spoke about._

* * *

><p>Armound stopped speaking, the guilt once again choking him. It had all been his fault, all his fault. Everything. He had been the one to ruin the company, he had been the one to much of a coward to take drastic measured against his neighbour, he had been the one who let his son venture into that world. If he hadn't been so weak, maybe Francis, maybe <em>his son<em>, would still…

"What happened to Francis, Mr Bonnefoy?" Mr Kohler's voice spoke out. Not gentle, not nice, but hard and cold. He must think the same anyone should think; how could a grown man ignore the needs of children? How could he have done such a thing?

Mr Kohler had every right to hear the answer to his question, had every right to know. But Armound was surprised to find out, that even after all those years he still couldn't speak those words, he still couldn't face it.

Huh, maybe he was even worse off as his wife.

"Mr Bonnefoy." Matthias spoke again. "What happened?"

"You need to leave now." Armound said, pointing at the door. "Please leave. I have told you everything I know."

The energetic younger boy spoke up next. "But we need to contact your son! Did he run away or something? You must know where he is?"

"Leave, now!" He was surprised to find out he was yelling.

"Mr Bonnefoy-"

"LEAVE!" they had to go, they had to leave. He couldn't say it out loud yet. He was not ready.

"Where is Francis, Mr Bonnefoy?"

He didn't know! How could he know, when…

"Where is he?"

Francis, Francis, Francis. Oh how sorry Armound was!

"WHERE?"

"_Where are you going?" Armound asked his young son. The boy seemed to be troubled about something the past few days. He frowned. "Is everything alright?"_

_Francis fastened his shoe lace and turned around, a bright smile on his face, it looked so incredibly fake. "Off course I am, Père, I'm perfectly alright! I'm just going to take out the trash, so don't worry."_

_With that the boy turned around and sprinted across the garden. He seemed to stop running a little further of, stopping in front of a white haired boy and another kid who he couldn't see because of the tree the kid was leaning on._ _Armound had a guess who that was._

_Not even a second later, all three boys ran off._

_Francis was not holding any trash. _

_That same night, Francis was shot._

"It was an accident." His voice sounded emotionless, but he knew better. "A few blocks down an officer had been attacked and the two policemen who came to his aid were furious. Francis and a few friends were close by, the back-up thought they had done it."

_They got the phone call late at night, he would've liked to say they had been worried, but if he was honest with himself, they hadn't been. Francis stayed away so many nights. _

_The phone woke them up and he reached for it. _

_Not even fifteen minutes later they were already in the police station, gazing at their son's face. Confirming, confirming to the police that the boy indeed was Francis Bonnefoy. As was police protocol._

_They son, laying there with a thin blanket covering his naked body, his handsome face covered in bruises and scratches. So very, very pale. _

"He died within minutes."

_When he ran out of that room, that mortuary, he noticed the boy. _

_The boy was sitting on a plastic chair, his blonde hair was dirty, blood was covering his clothes. His green eyes were haunted, tear streaks evident on his face._

"_Mr Bonnefoy." The boy spoke. "I'm so sorry."_

_Then they both broke down, the distraught father and the loyal friend and they wept, their sobs drowned out by Cecille Bonnefoy's desperate screams for her son to wake up. _

"_T-to think…I-I'll…b-be a-able…to s…s-see…y-you a-again…" _

_A lone tear fell but the smile stayed _

"_F-Francis…" _

* * *

><p><span>Letters to you<span>

Frog,

you-you-you! This isn't funny! All I did was dirty your hair a little! I'm sure your mum could make it right with one of her expensive exotic french shampoo thing! But what you did...! It will take years, _years,_ for my eyebrows to grow back, you stupid frenchie!

You are so dead.

Arthur.

* * *

><p>Don't you all worry! This will not be the last of Francis and a lot of Fruk will be forthcoming. But I had to kill him off, why? because it will be a key moment in Arthur's life that will lead to many things. Also, now you can speculate what happened to Francis? How and why did he die? It's all so very, very mysterious :P<p>

But yeah, don't worry, Francis will be one of the main flash-back caracters beside Arthur.

I hope you liked it, feedback is very much appreciated, like always.

With that, I wish you all a very good new year and I hope your christmas was good!


	6. Mrs Markson and Thomas Jones

**I do not own hetalia.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 Mrs Markson and Thomas Jones<strong>

They had once again stumbled upon a dead end; the step-dad of hell still hadn't shown himself, Armound Bonnefoy had nothing more to tell them and they had absolutely no other leads other than a description of one of Francis's friends who disappeared with him the night the boy was shot. Apparently that friend had been some kind of albino; weird red eyes with pale white hair. Alfred still couldn't get over the fact that that Francis guy had been shot all those years ago, it was all very sad and Alfred wondered if his brother had ever truly been happy in the united Kingdom. It seemed he had a very crappy life in this place and Alfred wondered if it was really the right thing to go around digging all the suffering up. But at the same time Alfred knew he didn't want to stop looking into his brother's past, he understood what Matthew was reluctant, sure; he wasn't as much of a fool people thought him to be, but he still wanted to know everything. For the simple reason that he would get to know his big brother better. Or, no, that wasn't all right, the real reason he wanted to know was probably because he wanted to find out all who had hurt his brother in the past, hunt them down and make them pay. Just thinking about Arthur's step-dad made the boy's blood boil and his protectiveness reach all-time highs.

There were still so many questions floating through his mind and Alfred wondered if all of them would ever be answered. He wondered if he could ever learn everything his brother had been through in this country.

All of these things were constantly on his mind. But, at that moment -twelve O'clock in the afternoon, sun breaking through the clouds giving the green park a nice glow, him, crouching down in the bushes next to his brother- was a rare moment when his mind had pushed all those other problems to the very back and he was concentrating on a different set of feelings.

Love.

He knew it sounded cheesy, but it was just that, plain and simple.

He also knew that technically the thing he was now doing was considered stalking, though he had tried to convince himself –and mostly his brother- it wasn't stalking but looking out for the person you love…a far distance away.

It had been a few days since they had been manhandled by guards out of the expensive mansion. Since Armound Bonnefoy had been so extremely upset he had started sobbing hysterically, prompting his wife to appear. When she saw them –and her devastated husband- she had immediately screamed for the guards, who had not so gently thrown them out. After that, they had been searching for other clues, but so far no luck. Matthias had gone off that same morning telling he had to 'do something' and Alfred and Matthew had been free for the whole day. They had gone to buy some souvenirs for when they returned and Matthew had whined to go to a nearby museum that was supposed to be a big deal, Alfred didn't really get what had been so awesome about the place, but yeah, it had made his brother happy and that's just what heroes do; making their little brothers happy. After that super-boring-museum-visit, Alfred had dragged his brother to the gym, wanting to check out a super cool martial arts tournament he had seen flyers from all over London.

It had been awesome to say the least, those martial arts people sure could fight, they were so elegant and cool! The big blonde had watched the contests with shining eyes and enthusiastic cries of joy. Matthew, his boring brother, had been reading that god-awful book Alfred couldn't get him away from.

But all of that didn't really matter, nothing really mattered. Because when the sixth contest started –the one where katana's were used- Alfred saw something what made his stomach flip, his palms sweaty, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

He would recognize him anywhere, that blacker-than-black hair, those gorgeous eyes, that elegant frame, those lips that could spell words that broke your heart or softly whisper 'I love you' in your ear. Alfred knew the other boy had always wanted to travel, he had known that the other was an absolute badass with the katana, he had even known that the soft-spoken boy had always wanted to go to some tournament in London. Still, it was a complete surprise to see Kiku there, dressed in a traditional Japanese gown, ready to face his opponent.

It was like Alfred fell in love with the other all over again. Off course, he had never really stopped loving the black-haired beauty; though to most it had seemed that way. It had just been hard to be himself so soon after Arthur's dead, it was even hard now, to be the one he used to be.

In his whole life, there were but a few times he regretted with all his heart; a few times he made a huge mistake. There was the time when he hurt his own brother; though his memories of it were kind off fuzzy because of the alcohol, he could still clearly remember the blood that had dripped from Arthur's chin, he could still clearly remember the horror when he realized he was the one that did that. Another one was at Arthur's funeral, Matthew had been standing next to him and they had both been staring as the case disappeared in the ground. Matthew had grabbed his hand, Matthew had sought support with him and Alfred had let his little brother down; he had shrugged of his brother's hand and ignored him. It had been the start of a huge rift, that moment their relationship had started to crumble, a relationship Alfred was trying so hard to rebuild now. But there was another relationship he had managed to destroy and that was the one he had shared with Kiku, his love, his everything. Alfred had betrayed the other in the absolute worse way possible; he had pushed him away when Kiku had tried to comfort him, not only that, no, he had sought comfort someplace else. He had sought it in alcohol, in food, in sex. In other men and women.

Yeah, he knew; he had been a total ass, that had been established already.

But this knowledge did nothing to temper his feelings for the boy who was so bravely fighting –and winning- there in the ring. Who was striking his opponent elegantly, who was moving with such precision and poise, who was man enough to look his opponent in the eye and face every challenge head on.

No, Alfred still was head over heels with Kiku.

And according to Matthew, this was a problem.

Alfred didn't get why his brother thought this, it certainly wasn't all that strange to wait in the shadows, for two hours, until Kiku emerged. Was it strange to follow your beloved (ex) and look out for him to ensure nothing would happen to him? Was it strange to hide in the bushes, while the love of your life was sitting alone in the park, soaking in the rare sunlight that made his skin shine.

Well, according to Matthew, it certainly was.

"Can we go now?" His adorable little brother whispered.

His little brother was so foolish, so naïve, he did not yet understand the gravity of love. "Mattie, it totally cool! We can't go yet."

"Cool? Alfred your stalking him!" Matthew insisted. "Don't you see-where did you get that camera?"

Alfred looked up, camera poised in his hands, ready to snap a few good pictures of the beauty sitting a few feet away. "I'm just going to take a few pictures." It was really a crime not to eternalize such a pretty sight! A crime!

Matthew put his hands on his head and groaned. "I almost forgot about your foolish escapades in the time we didn't spend together."

Alfred laughed quietly, for a moment reminiscing about all the adventures he had dragged Matthew in. It had been butt loads of fun. He grinned down at Matthew and his younger brother shot a disapproving look back.

" Matthew, Little brother of mine." Alfred spoke. "Will you help me?"

Matthew scoffed. "That depends with what you want help with." A pause. "And were the same age Alfred, quit telling everybody I'm younger."

"Help me," Alfred said. "win Kiku's heart back."

Matthew looked at him, that look Alfred recognized but could never place. It wasn't cold, it wasn't warm, it wasn't anything he knew. But after a moment Matthew nodded and smiled.

"Off course, Al, Off course I'll help you. However foolish it may be."

Brotherly love right there.

"Thanks, little bro."

The following two hours were spend keeping a watchful eye on Kiku – a few times Alfred could've sworn Kiku noticed the surveillance and his heart stopped, luckily his ex was less perceptive than he would've thought- when the sky turned darker and Kiku decided to leave the park, the two brothers decided to retire to the hotel room as well. Where they spend their time thinking of ways for Alfred to win the love of his life back. Theories were tossed around, ranging from kidnapping to a marriage proposal, and at times both brothers were on the ground laughing. Even though their search wasn't going according to plan, even though the likelihood of Alfred winning Kiku's affection back were slim, in that moment Alfred was truly happy again; for a moment the relationship between him and his younger twin seemed like it had been before and Alfred truly realised how much he had missed his little Matthew.

* * *

><p>Matthias's day went very differently than the two boys, it hadn't been a bad day really. For once, things seemed to go according to plan; Matthias had returned to that dreadful police station and, deciding that he didn't want a repeat of last time, sneaked past the guards (flashing his badge and looking quite important, rambling about ties with the American police and international problems) after that he looked up Toris who had, with a bright red face, given him the address of the woman who was responsible for checking up on Arthur while in foster care(after that Toris had firmly told him he couldn't give him any more information, this was truly the limit). Deciding to visit the woman immediately, because she lived nearby, Matthias stepped into his rental car and sped off. Her name was Mrs Markson and she lived in a fairly nice neighbourhood; not nearly as luxurious as the Bonnefoy's had been, but a lot more cosy. A neighbourhood with children playing on the sidewalk, adorning ripped clothes and filthy knees but well fed and with bright smiles upon their faces. Where grandma's where being led around and cared for by their neighbours, where a mother with four grocery bags in her hand and a drooling child on her hand was helped by a charming stranger (him). It was the kind of neighbourhood Matthias had come from and he immediately liked it. Purposely he walked to the address Toris had hastily scribbled on the white piece of paper, when he arrived at the door he pressed the bell, not a minute later the door was opened.<p>

Mrs Markson opened and she smiled questionably at him.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

Matthias couldn't help but smile back. Mrs Markson was a fifty-something, plump, motherly woman with a smile designed to ease any child's fears and worries, she seemed kind, sweet, a complete and utter mother hen. She seemed that way, but five minutes into their meeting, she proved to be that way too. Matthias hastily explained why he was there, faltering for a moment because he had to tell the woman her former charge was dead. Fortunately, she was already aware of this fact; the state had informed her with the same efficiently it had lacked to inform Mrs White. She seemed genuinely happy to let him in and help him out, and Matthias was placed on a comfortable sofa, a cup of tea and a home baked oatmeal cookie in each hand. When he reassured her he didn't need something else, he started a conversation.

"So, you was responsible for Arthur Kirkland while in foster care?"

Mrs Markson set down her cup and straightened up. "Yes dear, from the moment the boy was placed in foster care I was in charge of him. A sweet boy, that Arthur, a little rough around the edges, but he seemed to possess a good heart."

"Did you find a good foster home?"

"Oh, honey, yes I make sure all my dearies find a good responsible family to life with; the horrors you sometimes hear! Unbelievable, I would be the first to admit the system is not without its faults. I've always prided myself in making sure those children are in a good home. Though Arthur was a challenge…"

Matthias frowned. "How so?"

"Well, I don't know you know this, but he came into foster care following an arrest, quite serious accusations were made against him, although they were eventually proved false, off course."

Matthias remembered the Bonnefoys, Armound had talked about seeing Arthur cuffed to a chair, outside the room where Francis lay. And the fact that Armound had thought seeing –what he guessed- Arthur standing behind a tree with an albino kid, when the irresponsible father saw his son last. "The beating of that policemen? I heard about it; they were close by when that cop was assaulted. Francis Bonnefoy was shot."

Mrs Markson nodded sadly. "Yes, such a sad story. The police had always been wary about the people coming from that awful neighbourhood and I heard Arthur and his little band of friends –though he never given me any names of those friends- often had words with that particular officer who walked that round. This wasn't a secret… so when the back-up arrived and saw the fallen officer, they immediately assumed… Well, I suppose they were angry, I suppose they had the right to be angry…but to immediately shoot such a young boy, well, frankly it chills me to the very bone. Luckily, Arthur didn't share the same fate as that boy Francis but was arrested and charged. Not long after the beaten policemen testified that neither Arthur nor Francis had been the ones that had hurt him. A horrible, horrible mistake was made."

Matthias frowned. "A boy was dead, were the back-up policemen punished? Charged?"

Mrs Markson signed. "You have to understand, Mr Kohler, however awful it sounds… It wasn't very hard for the police to cover this thing up. Some people even thought it was good that someone from such a neighbourhood was shot. Almost all the people thought it was their own fault, that they must've done something wrong regardless of the circumstances; such bad neighbourhoods, they don't get sympathy, I see it so very often. I know it sounds awful, but that's just the way it is. I would guess it isn't all that different in the slums in the USA."

Matthias bowed his head. She had a good point.

"After that, Francis Bonnefoy was buried and Arthur was placed under my care, I never got out of him how he had lived before he was placed in foster care. There wasn't much funding to really find out who Arthur was; he never gave his last name to either me or the police. I suppose he didn't want to be placed back under the care of his biological family. Much later when Mister Jones showed up we were able to fill in some blanks. I always had the suspicion the Bonnefoys knew who Arthur was, but they held their mouths firmly shut. Arthur was a closed off boy, I could never really get through to him, neither could the families he was placed in."

Matthias wringed his hands. "How many?"

"Arthur was in foster care for nearly a year; in that time he lived with four different families, good families, but after a few months he always wanted to leave. I suppose he didn't want to lose any of his independence. I suppose he thought he didn't need a family anymore."

Matthias nodded, independent Arthur, that sounded about right. "Until Jones?"

Mrs Markson nodded, a brilliant smile blossoming on her lips. "Yes, until Mr Jones came to us, looking for his lost son." She chuckled. "Such an energetic man! He came to us, armed with the knowledge of his son's last name, the whereabouts of his mother, opportunities to turn Arthur's life around. He demanded to see his son, but was utterly nervous when it was time for Mr Jones to meet Arthur."

Matthias smiled, imagining an older version of Alfred, the one he had seen in pictures littered around Arthur's and the boy's house. "He was, wasn't he? A good man…"

Mrs Markson nodded. "Yes, I suppose he was." A fond smile made it on her face. "But don't you go thinking Mr Jones was the only good person in Arthur's life! The last two foster families reported both an albino kid with red eyes and a big Russian kid occasionally checking up on the boy, they were probably his old friends. Wanted to know if he was alright."

Matthias shot up, this was the second time he heard about the albino looking boy; Bonnefoy had mentioned him too. "Are you sure they were checking up on him… they weren't…threatening?"

Mrs Markson looked taken aback. "Goodness, that didn't even cross my mind. I… I don't know about the other, but I, well, I was curious about Arthur so I once… I'm not proud of this, but I once ease dropped on a conversation between Arthur and the albino looking boy –Gilbert Arthur called him- and it was everything but threatening."

Matthias raised him brow. "Do go on."

_She really shouldn't be doing this, but when the Jefferson's told her Arthur was outside talking to a friend, Mrs Markson couldn't help but be curious. It was for the boy's benefit too, she reasoned, if she could uncover more of the boys past, maybe they could fix a better, permanent, family for him; this was already the boys third family and he was already requesting a transfer!_ _So that was how she found herself with her knees in the bushes. Spying on the boy who was standing by the iron fence, his blonde hair was blowing in the wind and he was fondly smiling at a white-haired kid with surprisingly_ _reddish eyes._ _She shuffled a little closer, praying she wouldn't be seen, so she could hear what the two were saying. Arthur was talking._

"…_and then I told them I wanted to leave."_

_The white-haired boy chuckled. "I'm guessing that went over well! Fucking hell Arthur, sometimes you can be awesome like me!" The boy turned serious again. "Are you sure that was the only reason you want to leave? You now you can tell me anything!"_

_Arthur smiled warmly at The other boy. "It isn't so bad, Gilbert, truly. I know you had a lot of rough experiences in foster care, but Mrs Markson is quite sweet; she always checks up on me."_

_Mrs Markson's heart skipped a beat, the boy spoke so fondly of her! She smiled to herself, suddenly feeling quite guilty about what she was doing. She was practically betraying her ward's trust. She shuffled a little deeper in the bushes, praying he wouldn't find her._

_The boy, gilbert, snorted. "Sweet my ass, that's how they get you, you know? Are you sure you can't just hop over this fence and come with me?"_

_Arthur sighed, as if they had this conversation before. "You know I can't Gilbert. Ivan, Berwald even Tino agreed! I'm on their radar now; both foster care and the police want to keep an eye on me so that I can be 'helped', like I need their bloody charity! Children services, no Mrs Markson, won't let me simply disappear. They would find me and pull me back; I'm not an anonymous street kid anymore. Though I do miss you all terribly, I'm glad you found me."_

_Gilbert chuckled. "Yeah, being anonymous is totally awesome!" he moved to stand a little straighter, both boys looking each other in the eyes. "I'm glad I found you too! How long has it been? Seven months? You should've seen the gang when it became apparent you had disappeared! Who would've thought you had been placed in a foster family half across the country! I was so relieved when we found you here! Especially after all that happened…"_

_Mrs Markson knew that this was the first family who reported Arthur's little visitors; which made sense, this was also the first time Arthur was once again placed in London. If his friends had been living on the street, they would've had no idea where Arthur had disappeared to… _

_Arthur looked sad. "Yes, I heard. I'm so sorry about Emil Gilbert. So very, very sorry."_

_Hair was obscuring the other boys face and Mrs Markson couldn't see his expression. "Yes…yes I'm sorry too. You know…" Gilbert hesitated, as if he didn't know how to continue. "We're falling apart, our little gang… first Francis, then you, Elizabeth, Emil… now Ivan has been gone for several days. Furthermore, they are going to wreck the building… I really don't know what to do…"_

"_Can't you ask Ludwig…?"_

_Gilbert snorted. "I'm not that desperate! Besides, I always find a way to get by!" the white-haired boy gave Arthur a blinding laugh. "you should know that by now, Arthur!"_

_Arthur smiled. "That's probably true but…" He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, looking around him, he quickly handed it to Gilbert. "Here, I nicked this while the Jefferson's weren't looking."_

_Gilbert looked at what Arthur had given him and for a moment he seemed to be breathless. At that same moment Mrs Markson realised that it was money. Her ward had stolen from his host family! She had to supress the urge to jump out of the bushes and grab the little thief by the ear; but she decided against it. She really didn't want the boy to know she was ease dropping, no matter what the other had done._

"_this…this is a lot…" Gilbert stammered. "…thanks so much, this, this'll really help." A huge grin broke through. "You sure are amazing Art, still got it, don't you?"_

_Arthur scoffed. "Did you really think I would ever lose it? Of course I'll help you guys out, I'll still be of use to you lot. Besides, this is probably what Ivan meant when he said that me staying in foster care would benefit us all. Helping out. Financially."_

_Gilbert grinned. "Probably, the greedy bastard. Look Art, I've got to go." Gilbert hand reached out and the boy ruffled the others hair, Arthur scowled and took a step back. "You tell me if something's wrong, all right? The moment something's amiss, we'll break you out of this place!"_

"_It's not a prison, Gilbert."_

"_It might as well be." Gilbert said. "Just like a prison, you're stuck."_

"_I won't drop the soap."_

_Gilbert turned around, laughing and waving._

"_Make sure that you don't!"_

_Arthur turned around and walked back into the house, Mrs Markson was never discovered._

Matthias wasn't sure how to respond to that story, though it was nice that Arthur still seemed to have friends after Francis had gone, the references to street life scared him. He was about to say something whensuddenly Mrs Markson shot up and with a quiet 'oh!' she started rummaging through the drawers of her cabinet. After a moment she pulled out a videotape, videotape not DVD, and handed it to Matthias. "I almost forgot I had that!" She said. "Meetings between parents and foster children are taped and documented. This was released to Arthur, but he told me he didn't want it, he told me I could keep it. I think he wanted to leave a piece of himself in the United Kingdom."

Matthias was startled. Especially about the sudden change of topic. "So this is…"

"Yes, the documented meeting between Mr Jones and Arthur. I have a feeling Arthur would've wanted you lot to have it."

* * *

><p>The timing couldn't have been any more perfect.<p>

Not.

They had just been about to find the perfect solution to the Kiku dilemma when Matthias stormed into the room and destroyed their train of thought. Destroying their idea which most likely would've been awesome. Yes, Alfred was not a happy camper, until he could no longer ignore Matthias happy yells and franticly waving around of a videotape.

Dude seriously videotape? They weren't in the middle ages anymore!

But then Matthias explained, and not a moment later all were happily yelling and jumping up and down. Well, Matthias and Alfred were yelling and jumping up and down; Matthew was just smiling contently, sitting on the bed and a happy glint in his eyes.

Then the tape was played and all was silent.

A room came in view, a table in the middle, a young scowling boy sitting opposite of a blonde smiling man.

They hadn't seen their father in a little while and both of them swallowed away a lump. Their father had been a good one, they remembered. A father who always played with them, was never unrightfully angry and always, always showed he loved them. Alfred and Matthew both could still remember the pain when they were told that both their parents had died. They had been young and it had almost seemed impossible to be true, but when they saw their parents being buried, they had no other choice but to believe it. Yes, it was hard and strange to see their father on that videotape. Just as it was strange to see a young Arthur sitting opposite of him. It was a different Arthur then they had ever known; no primp and proper clothing, no carefully styled hair, no gentlemanly behaviour. No, this Arthur was clothed in punk-like tight clothing, seemed to have lined his eyes with black kohl and although he was sitting straight up in the chair, he still practically oozed disobedience.

"_So, who are you?" the strange version of Arthur spoke. "Why are we even in this room? Other therapists? You can bugger off then; I bloody don't need to talk about feelings." _

_Their father was still staring at Arthur with eyes the size of plates, like he couldn't believe the sight before him. Not in a bad way, no, his eyes were shining with wonder, like he had imagined this meeting a thousand times, but reality was always different. Arthur ached an eyebrow at the other man and impatiently drummed his fingers on the table. _

_The man finally spoke, his voice was quiet, emotions battling each other. "I'm no therapist… My name is Thomas Jones."_

_The blonde boy didn't seem fazed in the least. "Alright , Mr Jones. Why the bloody fuck are you bothering me? I imagine you have better things to do?" _

_The man seemed to take a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation he was about to have. "I…I don't really know where to start…"_

_Arthur leaned back, his eyes following Mr Jones every movement. He was curious now, both Matthew and Alfred recognized the expression. "How about starting at the beginning?"_

_The blonde man let out one barking laugh at that statement. Before turning serious again. "At the beginning, heh? You might be right… It all started years ago when I was still a teenager."_

"_A teenager? Dear god how long is this going to take?" Arthur looked irritated and bored at the same time, he clearly didn't expect much. "Look mister I really don't need to hear your life story." _

_Mr jones looked at the other, an unreadable expression on his face, not anger, no, more a mixture between guilt and pity. "Just hear me out, please." Arthur scoffed and looked the other way. "I was part of a student exchange program and was placed here in London. While here… I met a girl…" Their father took another breath. "That girl's name was Elizabeth White." _

_This got Arthur's attention, his head, which he had been resting in his arms, shot up and his green eyes were firmly placed upon their father. _

"_She was around my age, a little younger. I was so in love, her smile, her hair, her beautiful eyes. We used to make fun of each other, you know? Jokes about Brits and Americans. I was crushed when I had to return to the states; I thought she was too, I know she was too. We told each other we would write, every week. We would never lose touch we agreed." Mr Jones sighed. "Not even two weeks after I had returned to the states her letters stopped, I figured she lost interest."_

_Their dad and their brother looked each other in the eyes, blue and green clashing. What had their father thought when looking in to those eyes, had he seen Elizabeth White? Or had he just seen his son, plain and simple, the son he abandoned?_

"_That was about sixteen years ago."_

_Silence as the two kept their eyes locked. Arthur's surprise had faded from his face and not an emotion could be read from his expression. Their father, on the other hand, looked nervous, almost pleading. It was Arthur who broke the silence._

"_Why don't you just come out and say it?" His face was as cold as his expression and Alfred could barely contain a flinch at the tone. _

"_You are my son, Arthur and I am your father." Arthur didn't react and Mr Jones swallowed, suddenly speaking very fast. "And I'm so very sorry I haven't been there for you, I should've been there, you are my son! You have to believe me, I didn't know I had another son, Elizabeth didn't tell me. I found out a little while ago and have been trying to find you. Please Arthur, you have to-"_

"…_you are my father?" His voice was quiet yet calm, the question not whispered in disbelieve or wonder. No, his tone light, as if he was asking about the weather. _

"_Yes."_

_Arthur scoffed. "You? A bloody yank?" his voice had turned mean, angry almost. "Dear god, Francis would've had a field day with this one. Kill me now, I'm part American."_

_Mr Jones frowned. "Arthur do you understand what I'm saying-"_

"_If I understand? Of course I do." Laughter sounded through in his voice, mocking. "what did you expect? Tears?" Their blonde brother let out a barking laugh. "Did you expect me to rush into your arms? Did you expect me to be angry at you for leaving my mother; you weren't the first or the last to leave that woman. Did you expect me to feel complete now? I hate to tell you this, Mr Jones, but you are too late." _

_Laughter died into Arthur's throat and what's left was a cold calculating look. "Of all the times you could've come, of all the times in my life I needed someone like you, you had to choose the one time I don't need you anymore." Arthur leaned back into his chair. "And now, I simply don't care." But that wasn't true; both Alfred and Matthew saw it in the way Arthur was clenching his fists. _

_Their father had been silent while Arthur had been talking and both Matthew and Alfred were surprised to see tears in the man's eyes. They had never seen that before._

"_Arthur, please, don't hate me…" his voice was broken and sad. It even seemed to surprise Arthur, like he hadn't thought his rejection of the man would've made any difference to the other. _

"_I don't hate you, Mr Jones, how can I? I don't even know you." Arthur moved to stand up. "Why don't you just go? Forget you ever had another son; everything could be as it was for you. You've done your duty, you visited me. You're done."_

_Before Arthur could properly stand up, their father grabbed the teens arm, stopping him. "No!" Thomas Jones looked panicked. "You're my son! I don't want to forget about you. I won't pretend it wasn't a shock to discover you existed, I won't deny the fact that my life is more complicate now. But you are my son, mine." Edward Jones straightened his spine. "and I am your father. However much you deny that you need me, I can give you a place outside of foster care, I can give you a family, a life."_

_That was obviously the wrong thing to say because Arthur pulled his arm violently free and for the first time he seemed to convey a real, raw emotion; anger. "You can give me a _life_? I have a perfectly good one, with good people in it! How dare you tell me that the life I'm leading is inferior. At least I'm not a spoiled little boy who is to naïve to understand how the world works." The anger seemed to vanish after his rant, before a mocking grin found its way onto their older brother's face. "Besides, I see a wedding ring on your finger, what would the wife think of the bastard child, which her husband conceived with the some English girl?"_

_Mr Jones faltered a little when reminded of his wife, before growing determent again. "She'll get over it… And I didn't mean to insinuate your life had no worth, it's just… don't you want an proper education, a chance of a brighter future? A family to call your own?"_

_Arthur looked away. "In case you didn't read my file; I don't do well with families… I've been with a lot of foster families, go ask them." _

"_I really don't care what those other families had to say about you. You are my son and I want you to be part of my life, I want to be a part of your life. Please Arthur, come to America with me."_

_Arthur scoffed. "What did I tell you? You are too late-"_

"_Please Arthur, please. Come life with us; my wife and your two half-brothers."_

_Arthur, who had been looking away, quickly turned his head toward his father. "I have… I have brothers?"_

_Mr jones hastily pulled something out his jacket, his wallet, before opening and pulling out a picture. Both Alfred and Matthew couldn't see it from the screen, but they knew which picture it was; their father had always carried it with him. Both of them around five or six, on Christmas eve wearing a Santa hat and huge grins. Arthur grabbed the picture and stared at it, a small smile tugging at his lips ( because nobody couldn't at least crack a little smile while presented with such cuteness). _

"_The blue eyed boy is Alfred and the other is Matthew." Jones told Arthur, his tone softening a little at the mention of his young sons. "You are their big brother Arthur."_

_Arthur slowly sat back down on his chair, eyes still glued to the picture. "…a big brother…? I've been one once before you know? Mother had another baby after me, my little brother. She had him with the nicest man I ever met, Mother was married to him...Little Peter died, stillborn. I think it was then that she completely derailed."_

_Silence._

"_Arthur…" Jones spoke up. "I don't know what happened between you and your mother; I only know that you haven't seen her in quite some time…I found your mother… I could take you to her, if you want…anything you want, but please come with me to the states." _

"…_It's a long, long way to America…" Arthur seemed to be lost in thoughts, thinking about something they would never be able to know, before locking eyes with his father once again. "You're going to regret this, you know?"_

"_I won't."_

"_Fine, I'll give the country of horrible grammar, bloody yanks and unintellectual fools a chance." _

* * *

><p>The videotape had given room for thought. Matthew didn't really know how the others thought about the thing, but for him, it made warmth blossom in his chest, tightening around his heart. Matthew had always loved his father, even though the man sometimes didn't pay much attention to him, and he had always knew his father had been a good man. The video proved that, and Matthew was glad he had seen this little piece of Arthur's and their father's history. He had been touched, just like his brother, by Arthur immediate acceptation of them.<p>

Yes, Matthew felt quite happy about Matthias find. But one person he couldn't get out of his head. That was why, the following day, he crept out of his bed at the crack of dawn. Silently slipped on his shoes and jacket as to not disturb the other sleeping occupants of the room. This ultimately proved to be all futile since he tripped on one of Alfred's strategically placed shoes and landed firmly on his face. Which woke the two other up.

They in turn decided that whatever Matthew was planning they should come with. When he didn't want to tell them what he was planning, they simply followed him. Which didn't matter all that much, Matthew hadn't been planning something secretive, just something he would've thought not interesting for the other two. That was a mistake; when the three of them finally arrived at the graveyard they had both gone quiet, understanding who they were about to visit.

They stood there quite some time, marvelling about the friend they would never meet, who had meant so much to Arthur. The stone was well-kept and several flowers adorned it. A pendant was hanging on the stone, the same pendant, Matthew noticed, as Arthur had always carried around.

_Francis Bonnefoy. _

_You will be dearly missed_

Matthew really hoped they had found each other again.

* * *

><p><span>Letters to you.<span>

Arthur,

You are too loud! Your mom and that boyfriend who lives with her and you! You all started shouting two nights ago, it woke me up! I couldn't sleep for the whole night, so I climbed out of my window and listened to the three of you, until everything quieted down and was silent. After that, I waited some more… You never came outside, like you usually do when things start to get loud in your house, neither did you show your ugly face the following days…

I hope you are alright, should I come find you?

Francis.

* * *

><p>Dear readers, I'm sorry for the delay in updating, I've recently been very busy with exams and the fact that I've moved away from my parents to live on my own.<p>

I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter.

I want to thank everyone who reviewed, as many writers on this site will know, reviews are very dear.

So if you think it was good or bad. If you want to give me some pointers or if you're just in the mood to say something about this chapter or my story; please review!

Oh yeah, almost forgot; I've put a _letters to you _bit in the previous chapter because I had forgotten it last time, also; I've discovered some mistakes in the story (minor mistakes, but mistakes nonetheless) so I'll be fixing those. Also, if any of you see something that doesn't add up, feel free to tell me!


	7. Harris Morison and Feliciano

I do not own Hetalia

I've changed the rating to M, not because I'm going to write something terribly explicit (I think) but because this chapter will have a atempted rape in it. I'm not sure if it's enough for a rating change, but you can never be to careful.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 Harris Morrison and Feliciano.<strong>

Feliciano hummed a little tune while he prepared a nice bowl of pasta for the two men who were still fast asleep. The brown-haired twenty-something youth knew that both men would be hungry after they would get up. Because Feliciano wouldn't be there to feed them his delicious and healthy Pasta when they awoke he figured he would put some of the breakfast he ate himself (pasta~!) in the fridge. Because everybody should eat pasta for breakfast, this was an absolute and utter fact.

He did.

The petite man smiled a little super-cute smile to himself while imagining his husband and his husband's brother scarfing down his creation. Even though they would both complain about Pasta not being something you ate in the morning, even though they would scoff at the fact that Feliciano had taken the time to prepare something, even though they would both miss him in the silent kitchen, they would still _devour _it.

Yes, they would certainly complain about his absence, though they should know by now that the Sunday morning was important to him, so very _very_ important. He wasn't like all the others, he couldn't let the past rest, no matter how he little he had shared his friends –because they were friends, no matter what Romano, Loderich or anyone said- suffering, he still wanted to wake up insanely early on the Sunday morning and visit the graves of the ones that had passed on. So he wouldn't be back for a few hours; he always took his time to take care of the three graves. He just hoped that the grave far away in the USA was taken care of too.

Packing the pasta away, Feliciano grabbed his jacket and keys. He quickly glanced at the time (something over five) and smiled to himself yet again; Tino would probably be waiting for him, sitting in his small living room. Silently Feliciano padded through the living room in search of his shoes, finding them behind the fridge (How did they get there?), Feliciano hastily put them on and after pulling his jacket a little tighter around him, exited the house. The streets of London were still dark and quiet and they would continue to be for several more hours, the air was cold and fresh; he really loved this time of day. He didn't really know why; it wasn't the solitude; Feliciano needed, craved company and was easily scared when by himself. Still, Walking to Tino's house at five O'Clock made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Maybe it was because he and his grandpappa used to take long walks in the dead of the night and talk,_ talk_.

But he really didn't want to think about his grandfather right now.

Before he knew it, Feliciano was standing before a familiar house. A small one, but the kind you just knew was cosy and peaceful inside. A house that radiated happiness and love, and how could this not be? Both Tino and Berwald were one of the nest, kindest, good people he had ever met. You would never guess their background if you would look at the two, you would never guess how they had spent their childhood, which obstacles they had to overcome to get where they were now. Yes, Feliciano couldn't imagine how it must have been, he had only been an outsider watching the suffering of the people he had seen as friends, learning how very unfair the world was, rage filling him when he heard Romano's condescending tone or Roderich's quiet disdain.

Shaking away his thoughts, Feliciano moved to the front door and lightly knocked. Not even a second later the door was opened by a sweetly smiling blonde who was a little smaller than him and was wearing an overly large nightshirt (probably Berwalds).

"Feliciano!" Tino exclaimed. "There you are; I was getting worried, you're a little late!" he then laughed. "Well, come in! Everybody's still sleeping, so please do be quiet."

"Off course!" Feliciano answered, happy walking inside the house and following Tino to the living room. "Sorry I'm late; had to make breakfast for my two strong ravenous men!"

"It's all right." Tino chuckled slightly. "How are they doing anyway? And you, how's married life treating you? I can't believe it has already been nearly four months!" Tino went the table where a big vase with beautiful flowers stood.

"It's great! I'm very happy." Feliciano's eye fell onto the flowers once again and he noticed that Tino was wrapping them up in paper. "Oooooh~! Tino those are gorgeous! Are those the one I'll be taking to Elizabeth, Emil and Francis?" They really were gorgeous, shining petals, blinding colours, a bright green ribbon holding them together.

Tino blushed, he always did that when complemented. Feliciano knew Tino had a very low self-esteem. "They were delivered to our flower shop yesterday evening, and Berwald said they would be the perfect ones to give with you…I…I added the green ribbon, I saw it on sale and the green… Doesn't the green remind you of Arthur's eyes? I thought…since we can't very well go all the way to his grave, maybe you could lay it by Francis's grave?"

Feliciano fought the watering of his eyes, but in the end that was futile; the dead of their friend Arthur had reached them some time ago in the form of Ivan, who always seemed to know everything, and all had been devastated. But by the time they had been notified, the blonde had already been buried and their goodbye had been taken away. Although it had been a long time they had seen the blonde, it was still sad to think that he had died.

Far away from them; far away from his past.

Maybe that was a good thing.

With the flowers in hand and one last wave to Tino, Feliciano went on his way. The walk to the graveyard was long, nearly twenty minutes, but it was a walk he never minded taking. On an occasion as this he'd rather take his time, instead of a quick visit by car. Only when the graveyard was already in sight did he speed up his walking.

It was slightly less dark when he finally arrived and the first birds were waking up. It was strange; the graveyard never looked eerily to Feliciano, which was weird; normally Feliciano was afraid of anything and everything.

The first grave he visited was Elizabeth's. It stood at a corner, a flower bed was right in front and a photograph depicting a beautiful brown-haired girl rested on the stone's shining black surface. He grabbed a bundle of flowers and lay in in front of the stone.

"_Feliciano! Feliciano!" Elizabeth shouted, while grabbing both his hands in hers. "Let's dance!" She twirled him in sync with the music, the music she loved so much; the beautiful sound of a violin. "Roderich is playing, Feli! So let us dance!" She paid no heed to his stumbles and his muted protests and gripped him a little tighter. Moving her head a little closer to his, she winked and slyly smiled. "Don't you want to impress Ludwig?"_

Second was Emil's. Feliciano wasn't surprised to see another figure there. They sometimes met on the Sunday morning. Since Feliciano always felt the need to go there on that day and Nikolas worked every day of the week except for Sunday, which he liked to spent talking to his little brother who could no longer answer him. They silently nodded at each other and Feliciano put the flowers on the grave. Muttering a quiet. "You should go home, Nikolas, it's getting cold." All he got was a little wave.

"_Can I really?" the wide innocent eyes of the ten year old were heart breaking, but Feliciano managed to keep smiling, an encouraging smile while he grabbed the young boy's hand and pressed the big bar of chocolate in the boys awaiting palm. "Yes, you can, I saved it especially for you." That wasn't true; Romano had rejected the chocolate, saying it wasn't the right brand. " Now run off and don't forget to share with your big brother okay?" The smile he got in return was so full of happiness Feliciano had to blink back his astonishment and he once again couldn't understand how unfair the world really was. "Nikolas! Nikolas!" the boy ran to his brother, who looked up at emil's voice. "Look what I got from Feliciano!"_

The last grave he always visited was Francis's, but when he got there Feliciano was surprised to see other people there, people he didn't recognize. Fuelled by his fear for everything and anything, Feliciano quickly jumped behind a nearby tree to better observe the trio who were standing there. All three seemed blonde, big, and tall. They were quietly staring at the grave and the smallest (still tall) one brushed some dirt from the stone.

Feliciano frowned; who were they?

Just like always, the answer came in the threatening form of Ivan.

Who was standing right behind him.

And when Feliciano walked home almost an hour later, he really hoped Ivan hadn't returned to his old ways. His hand clenched around the letter he had gotten from Ivan, just after he had told Feliciano that those three were currently trying to uncover Arthur's past. Ivan hadn't answered Feliciano's desperate question's why? Why would there be anything worth uncovering in Arthur's past?

"_Did you hurt your ankle again?" Arthur huffed when Feliciano nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Come on, I'll bandage it up and next time you encounter those bullies again, tell me or Gilbert or something, we know exactly where to kick to make it really hurt a whole bloody lot." Arthur grabbed his arm and coaxed him onto a chair. Francis was standing next to him, a teasing smile on his face. "Ohonhonhon, Arthur dear, getting a little maternal there aren't we? So very, very" –PATS, French hand connecting to English ass-"cute!" Arthur's maternal mode vanished instantly and it was only a matter of time before he had two people to bandage up. "FRANCIS!" _

Ivan had simply smiled and given him the letter, telling Feliciano exactly who he wanted it delivered to. Telling Feliciano he shouldn't be questioning Ivan, telling him it wasn't his concern, not really, how well had Feliciano really knew them?

The ones that had been out casted, ignored, looked upon with disgust.

Toris, Ivan, Berwald, Tino, Nikolas, Emil, Arthur, Francis, Gilbert and Elizabeth.

he had seen them as his friends.

Even though they mightn't have felt the same way.

* * *

><p>It was rather anti-climactic, having visited Elizabeth's old house numerous times with no effect and with the stories circulating about her husband, to really stand face to face with the man. Alfred had rather expected a huge bulking evil guy, which intimidating presence would scare them all. That was the face he'd expect from a villain, because after all the guy had done to his older brother this Harris Johnson sure fit the criteria of a villain. Of course, it was the hero's job to kick the villain's ass and he would gladly do so. But still, the man that opened the door was not the one Alfred was expecting. He did not expect such a failure of a man; a sunken face adorned with a filthy yellow beard, dead and cold looking eyes, a huge budging stomach clad in a too-small wife beater littered with greasy spots. The man was obviously hung-over, huge bags under his reddish eyes, which blinked in pain when assaulted by the bright sunlight.<p>

The man opened his mouth, which gave them all a nice few of the few yellowy teeth he had left, and acknowledged them.

"Whatcha want?" He barked, and only now did Alfred notice the _smell_.

Matthias took the lead, his voice tight and cold, unlike Alfred had ever heard before; not even when they had been talking to that awful witch next door. "We want to talk to you, Harris Johnson, regarding some _personal _matters."

Harris Johnson's hairy eyebrows shot up, right before they frowned in irritation. "Look, guy, I've got nothing to say to you, so why don't you fuck off?" Then the big, ugly, hairy man moved to close the door on them. Before Alfred could make a move to prevent the other man from closing the door Matthew had already moved; with a loud bang his heavy fist collided with the door, making it impossible to close.

"It wasn't a request." Matthias said stonily. "Now let us in, or else I'm going to knock _this _fist" The fist that was keeping the door open shook a little. "And give you exactly what you deserve."

The other man seemed to shrink away in surprise, obviously not very used to having to fight someone his own size, before the man looked Matthias over. Which, Alfred had to agree, was a pretty intimidating sight; Matthias had served a good amount of years with the police and had a background in the military, he was big, muscled and pissed-off. Alfred saw the fear creeping in the other guys face, before those same eyes shot to Alfred's own body; he was delighted to see that the same reaction was gained as Harris Johnson assessed him.

"Is that a threat?" The man's voice shook.

"Yes, it is." Matthias replied, locking his fierce eyes with other's.

No matter how unbelievable it sounded, the inside of the house was dirtier than the outside, which was quite a feat in and of itself. Every square inch was either covered in filthy clothes, pizza cartons or empty beer bottles. The big man went to sit in a big grey chair and motioned with his hand to the couch. Alfred was quite afraid he would get some creepy illness from sitting on the thing that maybe possibly had once been a couch, but after Matthew and Matthias went to sit down on it without any complaint, he –remembering he was the hero- dutifully followed.

"So what's this all about?" The man barked, obviously rather pissed he had unwelcome visitors on his couch. "Make it quick."

"We'll make it as quick or long as we'll damn well please." Matthias replied viciously and Alfred saw Matthew scoot away a little from their guardian, which was kinda understandable. "We're here to talk about Arthur, your step son."

"Arthur? Why would you want to talk about that kid?" The man coughed into his hand and all three blondes simultaneously backed away a little.

Matthias frowned. "We'll be asking the questions here, Harris Morison, not you."

Harris held out his hand in a defensive manner. "Okay, okay, ask away. He was 'Beth's son however, maybe you should ask her."

"We already did, she's not that coherent." Alfred said disdainfully. "Although seeing she's you wife, you should've known that."

The husband's eyes flickered to Alfred before he began to talk again. "Look kid, don't blame me, she was the one that left."

"To go to a mental hospital!" Alfred roared; he could still see the woman, who Arthur had probably loved, sitting there all alone, in that lonely hospital bed. "You're her husband, you should be there with her!"

"Our relationship was never good." The man argued, seemingly a little freaked about Alfred's angry expression and the two matching ones beside the blonde haired boy. "Sure, we were once in love, but eventually that withered. She was a dirty whore, could not stop herself in seeking attention from other men."

"Maybe because you were fucking ABUSING her!" Alfred shot up, hovering over the frightened man. "You sick bastard! Did she ever even stand a chance?"

"H-hold on, who t-told you this?" The man stammered and if Alfred wasn't so angry, he would've been proud at how scary he looked.

"It doesn't matter, YOU FUCKING ASS-" Matthias had grabbed him by the sleeve just as Alfred was about to slug the dirty bastard in his face. Furiously Alfred turned towards Matthias who was silently shaking his head.

Dang it, he had lost control _again, _why was it so hard for him to manage his anger?

"Care to explain the point Alfred just made, Harris?" Matthias said coldly, in a tone that was more threatening that Alfred's shouting had been.

"Y-yes, just keep that kid away from me." Harris regained his composure. "I was, and am, a drunk. She was more into drugs. Drugs and alcohol is a dangerous combination kid. I did things I couldn't control."

Matthias was unforgiving. "You're blaming this on alcohol? It was worse enough you hurt your own lover even after she started cheating, but how do you explain harming her innocent son?"

Harris Morison's eyes widened a little, sensing the absolute venom in the other's voice. "Arthur…Yes the boy, her son. I never meant to harm him, but he had too much of a heart."

"W-what?" Matthew spoke up, softly.

"He would always try to protect his mother, however little of a chance he had. That foolish lad, always trying to be a hero."

You hear that sound? That was the sound of three hearts breaking right there.

"H-he w-w-was trying t-to p-protect his m-mother?" Matthew whispered.

Harris nodded. "Always."

"But…he disappeared…" Alfred began, trying to make sense of the situation. "Did he run away? If so… how could he have left his mother behind…I mean," Alfred quickly explained when both Matthew and Matthias shot him a nasty glare. "I understand he was justified in leaving and I would not blame him for that, not when he was living with _you."_ Que glare to asshole. "But what changed so that he didn't feel the need to protect her any longer?"

To all their surprise, the man began to chuckle. "That, dear guys, you can all blame on Elizabeth. Because even though Arthur did everything in his power to protect her, he would not receive the same courteously from her. Arthur didn't run away because of me, no, he ran away because his own mother betrayed him in the sickest of ways."

_He was bloody infuriated, he was the laughingstock of the community! Yes again his girlfriend had been spotted by one of his buddies with another man. It was simply disgusting, the woman was lucky she was such a good lay because he would've left her long ago if she wasn't and he would take all his drug connections with him. Full of rage he knocked open the front door with his clenched fist and charged into the living room, where 'Beth and her thirteen year old son were sitting at the living table, the boy seemed to be in the process of trying to get the woman drink the cup of water he was gripping. His girlfriend was obviously extremely high, just as much as he was drunk at the moment. He stood a moment in the opening of the living room, Arthur looking warily at him and 'Beth sporting a dazed expression before his anger caught up with him again and he exploded._

"_You filthy whore!" in two long strides he had her hair in a tight grip, wrenching her head back, so she was looking directly into his eyes. "How dare you make a fool of me!"_

_He pulled his fist back and collided it with her face, ignoring the loud "Mum!" from Arthur's direction. "Sleeping with someone else! You should only be with me, stupid slut!" He cried out, giving the woman who had snapped out of her daze and was screaming her long's out another good slap. She started crying then, crying and pleading telling him she hadn't cheated on him, telling him she was faithful. But he knew better, 'Beth was a lying snake._

_He held her up by her hair and swing his fist back again, preparing for another hit. But before it could connect something held his fist back. Snarling he looked behind him, where Arthur was gripping his fist, screaming for him to stop hurting his mother. _

"_Stop it! Stop it! Stop hurting mummy!" The boy cried, like he had done so many times before, if Harris had been sober he might've actually listened to the boy, sometimes he did. Sure the boy was a nuisance and a brat but he sure was courageous. But not today, he was too blinded by his anger and the alcohol to listen to the pathetic thirteen year old gripping his fist. So he released 'Beth's hair to land a quick blow to the boy's cheek, which effectively made him release Harris's arm and tumble into the cabinet. Next he grabbed 'Beth's neck and forcefully guided her to the bedroom, she stumbled but he made sure she stayed upright. With a cry she fell face down on the bed and Harris was quick to pin both wrists with one hand, riding her skirt up with the other._

"_I'll teach you who you belong to, dirty woman." He breathed into her ear. "I'll make you fucking never forget!" The body below him stiffened before starting to writhe under his touch._

"_No, let me go! Harris, let me go!" She screamed, her fear overriding her high. He paid no heed to her words and was about to unbuckle his belt buckle when thin arms wrapped around his neck and a small body jumped on his back. "No! Let her go!" Arthur screamed, anger loudly in is voice. "Get off my mum!" _

_Stumbling, because the arms were constriction his air supply, he raised himself up and ran backwards, colliding his back and Arthur with the wall, one, two, three times before he felt the boy's hold falter. Harris felt Arthur slide from his back and when he turned the boy was laying on the floor clutching his ribs. "You stupid kid," Harris wheezed, rubbing his aching neck. "Ungrateful little BRAT!" His foot collided with the other stomach to underline his words. Arthur coughed and spluttered, but still tried to stand up, slowly very slowly, he managed to move on his knees. "Please," he begged. "Don't hurt her."_

_He merely scoffed and turned back to 'Beth who had turned herself around and was clutching the headboard on either side of her. "Stay back!" She screamed, hysterical. "Stay back, don't you touch me!" _

_He slowly crawled up to her and put both hands on her shoulders. "It's just sex, 'Beth, nothing we haven't done before, isn't it?" he tried to sound gentle, but it came out in a growl. "Just a little reassurance of my dominance."_

"_I don't want to." She sounded frightened and started trashing. _

"_It's just sex, nothing you haven't done before." He bend to kiss her neck, she stiffened, gripped in terror, yet he couldn't make himself care. _

"_If it's just sex you want…" She began, her voice panicky and strangled . "Then take Arthur and leave me alone!"_

_His head shot up just as a gasp was heard behind him. "What?" He asked dumbfounded._

"_You can have him, all of him! Just leave me alone! Just release me, please!" She sounded hysterical now, the voice of a madwoman and for a moment he couldn't recognize the woman who he had met many years ago, who had introduced her young son with a proud smile upon her face. He just saw a crazy woman, mind destroyed long ago by alcohol, drugs and the misery of life. A woman who would sacrifice her own son, just so that she could stay with the man who provided her drugs. A woman who would offer her son to a rapist._

"_Mum…?" A small voice spoke behind him and he turned wide-eyed around. Arthur was still on the floor, on his knees and he was looking at his mother as if he was seeing her for the first time. "W-what are y-you saying?"_

"_Take him!" The woman in his hands spat. "He's just a bastard with a father who abandoned us! Leave me alone! Take him!"_

_Angrily, his arousal completely vanished, he turned back toward the woman and clogged her in the face, her head snapped to the other side and she let out a small whimper. For once, Arthur didn't protest. "What do you think I am? Some paedophile? Dear god, woman, I don't want your son!" _

"_He's young! Just try…!" He slapped her again and she sagged lifelessly into the bed, unconscious. After that, he turned around a second time, looking towards the broken boy who was still staring at his mother like he couldn't believe it. And how could he? After all those years that boy had protected, cared, for his mother. How could've she betrayed him like that?_

"_Kid…" Harris began, anger had long ago flooded out of him, making place for astonishment. " Kid, you okay?"_

_Arthur shot to his feet, almost immediately whimpering and doubling over, clutching his ribs. "It's your fault!" He yelled. "You made her say that! Didn't you, you doesn't, she doesn't mean that!" tears were flowing freely now, his breath was hitching and his words chocked gaining a hysterical edge. _

"_Kid, I didn't." Harris spoke softly, stepping from the bed and reaching for the boy. Arthur's face seemed to crumble into aguish, before he realized how near Harris truly was, fear exploded into his eyes and he quickly backed away. "D-don't come near m-me!" He screamed, suddenly terrified. Harris scoffed and continued to move forward. "Kid, I'm not going to hurt-"_

_A hand slapped his, which was about to land on Arthur's shoulder, away. "Don't come near me!" Harris frowned his eyebrows, slightly annoyed; he wasn't going to do anything, the boy should calm down. He let both his hands fall heavily on the boy's shoulders and looked down, in those confused and terrified green eyes. It seemed like the boy truly believed he would do something so incredibly despicable, something even he wasn't capable off. He knew he wasn't the best person in the world, knew that he was abusive, he knew he was a drunk, he knew he sometimes forced 'Beth to do things she didn't want to. But even so, even if he was rotten and bad, he still had some compassion in him. And even though he yelled at the boy, even though he sometimes hurt him, Harris would never, ever touch him like that._

_Even he, with all his faults and shortcomings, wasn't that evil._

_He tightened the fierce grip on the boy's shoulders, not paying attention on the boy in front of him who stiffened. Memories of his own childhood flashed before his eyes. Because every drunken, rotten, despicable person had their own sad story to tell and Harris Morrison was no exception._

_But why should the boy believe him? Why should Arthur believe he wouldn't do that? He had seen it be done to his mother, he had witnessed incredible cruelties by just watching some of their neighbours. Arthur didn't trust him and Harris could hardly fault him for that. Who could the boy really trust now, when his own mother had uttered such words of betrayal. Harris knew, he knew how much the boy had loved his mother. He had seen it every damn time the woman was too drunk or high to take care of herself. And now, Arthur couldn't possibly trust the one person he was supposed to depend on. _

_The boy was just like Harris once was; alone, defeated, afraid._

_With a strong tug Harris pulled the boy toward him, making Arthur collide with his chest and he wrapped his strong arms around the boy, hunching over him and laying his head on top of the boy's. Although Arthur was frantically trying to get out of the embrace he still managed to lightly stroke Arthur's hair. Harris embraced the boy who he had never truly loved, feeling a connection, feeling a sense of camaderie. Feeling that the boy was someone he could understand, someone that could understand him. Feeling a sudden longing, a longing to be understood._

_Feeling a strange sensation in his lower abandon._

_They both stiffened at the same time. Both in mortification; Harris Morrison because he was betrayed by his own body, because it wasn't right his body reacted like that. Arthur, because he could feel it, he could feel his greatest nightmare, the destruction of his pride and dignity drawing near. After that single moment, where they were both frozen in absolute horror, the world unfroze again and Arthur doubled his attempts to get out of the other man's embrace._

"_No, no! Let me go! Let me go!" The boy started to yell. "Please!" _

_Harris struggled to keep the boy close to him, he had to explain to Arthur, he had to explain that he wasn't like that. That he would never…! "No, Arthur, it's not what you th-AH!" _

_It hurt._

_The little brat had kicked him in the balls._

_The pain was blinding all-consuming and excruciating; the boy had a good kick and he had chosen a painful place; his feelings for remorse and the new connection he had felt didn't disappear within his resulting rage, but they did wither, as his inability to control his temper once again took over his entire being. His rage that was fuelled with the disdain for his own life, filled with the disgust he felt for his wife for betraying her son, just like his parents had betrayed him so long ago, rage against himself, because after all he had been through, after all that he had promised himself not to become; that one kick, so well placed and vicious, reminded him of the fact that he had become the very person he had hated all his life, the one person he had never wanted to become._

_Because he had been like Arthur, he once had been the one to escape his tormentors with such a same kick; and now he had become what he feared the most._

_And he could not stand it, he had to deny it. _

_Fuelled with bitterness, betrayal and fear, he could not control himself._

_Red painted his vision, he remembered grabbing an arm, he remembered a voice crying out as a body his the wall. He remembered his hands, curling around a delicate neck. He remembered a chocked sob, a gasp of breath and liquid green eyes. He remembered Arthur, with his last breath, screaming for help, screaming for the one person he believed would help him._

"_Francis!"_

_That frightened voice snapped him out of his rage, that pitiful little wheeze, uttered so hopefully made Harris realize he was doing something very, very wrong. That voice screaming the name of the spoiled Bonnefoy's child, that naïve, spoiled, egoistic little brat. Harris eyes took in what he was doing; he had Arthur pinned to the wall, his hands around the neck and the boy feet were in the air, his eyes misty and expression full of fear. With a startled shock he released the boy and took a shocked step away from the boy who had fallen and was wheezing on the ground, trying to distance himself from the monster he had so surely become. _

"_No…" He whispered, but his voice was barely audible over Arthur's violent coughing, the red streams on his neck painfully obvious. "No… I-I didn't…"_

_I didn't mean too._

_How ironic, it were the same words his own father used to utter._

_He took another step back, his eyes wide, he had been on the verge of killing the boy, he knew it. He had gone too far. The boy in front of him slowly regained his breath, but he still looked woozy and disorientated. Harris was just about to help the boy when Arthur shot on to his feet and dashed, while almost tripping a few times, to the door. Harris had not been expecting this and was just a little too late to grab the boy's arm and make him stay, make him lie down, make it better. No he was too late and the frightened boy sprinted past him, past the bedroom door, into the living room. Harris went into pursuit, he didn't think, he just knew that he had to catch the boy, he knew something fundamental within their family, because they were a family no matter how sick, had changed. _

_So he dashed after him, followed him into the living room and into the hall. He was quicker; he had longer legs and Arthur was still disorientated from his recent lack of oxygen. The head start Arthur had was beginning to lose momentum and by the time Arthur reached the front door and pulled it open, Harris had already grabbed the kid's other arm._

"_Francis!"_

_Harris was momentary stunned by the volume the name was called and violently Arthur managed to pull his arm free, just barely, and knock Harris back a few steps. Arthur then ran through the door, slapping it closed right into Harris's face who had immediately tried to follow again. Angrily he opened the door and ran outside too, he just saw a little glimpse of a staggering Arthur a few steps away before something hard connected with his stomach, a flash of the brightest blue the only warning. _

_Harris fell to his knees and grasped his stomach, before he could do so much as look up the same hard thing connected to his back, making him fall face first onto the ground. He coughed, and blood came from his mouth. His vision began to blur and the last thing he saw before he passed out was wooden baseball bat lying innocently on the ground- the words 'pour mon beau fils' barely visible on it's dirty surface- and two figures running away, one slightly smaller than the other, hand clasped tightly together. _

_After that Harris never saw his step son again. 'Beth didn't remember the ordeal, she had been under the heavy influence of drugs, and when he told her what she had done… She was absolutely heartbroken. She screamed and cried and fought with him. They waited but both knew the boy wasn't coming back and maybe that was for the best; with him as a father and 'Beth as a mother, he reckoned he was saver on the street than he was with them… So they lived their life, 'Beth's drug abuse worsened, they were unhappy, were disgusted with each other, sometimes even hated each other. But if they were together, it meant that they weren't alone, their relationship was the only thing they had accomplished. So Harris and 'Beth stayed together and eventually married. Not for love, but simply because it was convenient. After the ordeal the day after Arthur had run away, they didn't talk about Arthur anymore. It wasn't that surprising that nobody questioned the boy's disappearance; the whole neighbourhood didn't care about anyone but themselves and the police in charge of the area couldn't be bothered by it, as corrupt as they were._

_Nobody asked, nobody. Not even the neighbour's boy, who had been a sort-of friend of Arthur's and who Harris suspected had knocked him down with the baseball bat. Harris had the sneaking suspicion the French boy knew exactly were Arthur had disappeared to, but he didn't ask. The conditions which they had met the last time hadn't been very favourable for him and he didn't want to stress out 'Beth any more than she already was. Harris knew something was wrong with her; it seemed like her mind was stuck in a downward spiral, first she experienced massive mood swings, next she started to forget stuff, she became really dependent on him, and finally after a few times she overdosed, nearly killing her in the process. She stopped speaking at all._

_And then, eight months after Arthur disappeared, Kirkland came._

_Harris had seen pictures of him, of course, as well in Arthur's bedroom as in the photo book stashed away behind the refrigerator. It were happy pictures, a happy family. Arthur was in those pictures, still very, very young but with a smile on his face that could light up the world. He was clutching the hand of a man, a man with a slender physique and deep brown eyes, his hair either a deep red or a dark brown. Yes he had seen the pictures Arthur would so adoringly look at, the pictures the boy had been able to save when his mother had gone to a rampage after the man had left her, burning all the other reminders of the man whose last name Arthur still wore. From the little information he had picked up from the neighbourhood as well as 'Beth in the beginning of their relationship (when everything was far less violent) Kirkland had come into 'Beth's life when Arthur had only been about two years old. The man was at least ten years older than her, but his once picture perfect life had gone to ruin after his business went bankrupt and his wife crushed him in a devastating divorce, taking everything from him; his house, his money, his life and his sons. It had been under these circumstances that the two met and fell in love. From what Harris had heard, the marriage had been happy, they had all been happy with each other, until Kirkland suddenly left. That was what 'Beth told him anyway, that the man just left out of the blue, leaving his loving wife and step son behind. Harris doubted that 'Beth didn't have anything to do with his disappearance; he had heard enough rumours and had enough experience with 'Beth's adultery to believe other ways. It didn't really matter, anyway, what did matter was that from Arthur's second year till his seventh, he had been loved by this Kirkland fellow. What mattered was that the man had obviously thought Arthur was still safe and sound with his mother, who had been a terrible wife, but never a terrible mother. Because Harris knew, before 'Beth became so terribly addicted, she had been a sweet and devoted mother. This was probably the reason why Arthur had loved her so much. _

_Kirkland came to visit, his reasons were unknown to Harris, but he came nonetheless and Harris was not ready._

_Not ready at all, because at the end of the day, he didn't want his 'Beth to leave him._

* * *

><p><em>Letters to you.<em>

Francis,

Please come get me.

Arthur.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed; please review!<p>

BTW, I'm sorry for the long wait.


	8. Toris and Ivan

I do not own Hetalia.

It has been a long time, I'm sooooo sorry! Lame explanation will be given after the story... so enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 Toris and Ivan<p>

_He came in a huge black van, the kind that makes a huge noise when driving down the street; it was a car to be jealous about, a car Harris looked upon with great envy and jealousy. It was a car someone drove who was well off, it certainly wasn't a car you often saw in their neighbourhood. Harris had been sitting on the wobbly chair on their veranda, enjoying the sun warming his skin when he saw the car the man drove who once upon a time had been 'Beth's husband. When Kirkland stepped out of his car Harris recognized him immediately. The man was fairly tall, but slender, with hair that seemed to glow red in the sun. He was very obviously middle-aged, with fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and mouth. Yes, despite the years gone by, Harris could clearly recognize the man's face in the few photographs he had seen. After Kirkland, another person stepped out from the car, a young man around twenty-five, hair a fiery and intimidating red and several piercings adorned his- admittedly handsome- face. Both looked around, the older man smiling softly as he took in the surroundings, obviously remembering this place in a happy mind-set, which was near impossible, if you asked Harris. The boy, however, looked exactly as you were supposed to look at downhill street; with disgust and contempt. Harris knew exactly who the middle aged man was, he hadn't changed that much from the pictures and an ominous feeling came over him._

_The redheaded youth began to speak. "So this was where you hang out while mum was being a total bitch." The boy sniffed disdainfully. "Sorry dad, not impressed."_

_Kirkland shot his son a disapproving look, before turning to Harris. The man looked momentarily disappointed and surprised. If this was because it was a big surprise that 'Beth had found another man or that the man in question man was dirty and rough, he did not know. No matter, because Mr Kirkland seemed to shake of his surprise soon enough and made his way towards him. _

"_Excuse me," The man said. "But I'm looking for Elizabeth White, does she still live here?"_

_Harris glared at the man, he wasn't feeling particularly helpful towards Mr Kirkland, who had come up to him with determent footsteps, who drove a beautiful car and who had been the love of his wife's life. His heart was filled with envy and bitterness when he looked upon the man who seemed to have overcome the life that people lead in downhill street. Who had escaped poverty and seemed to be pretty well off. The man who was now back, back to ruin everything in his life that Harris hadn't yet ruined himself. Because he knew, he had always known, that if that man in the pictures Arthur so lovingly hid would come back. Harris –and 'Beth- would have to not only face, but atone for their sins. _

_So he glared, because there wasn't much more he could do._

"_What's it to you?"_

_Kirkland didn't even seem taken aback by his hostile answer, he had lived in this neighbourhood after all and probably knew exactly what to expect. The son moved to stand beside the father and for a moment Harris was stunned by the trust he saw in the sons eyes, it had just been a glimpse in those eyes but it had been there none the less. What made Kirkland that good of a person? Why did he deserve the admiration of so many people? Hadn't he abandoned this son too? Hadn't he abandoned 'Beth? Arthur? Then why was he still loved?_

_And why did Harris himself, who would forever stuck with his wife, no matter how terrible their lives got… Why was he still loathed?_

_Harris clenched his fists. It was probably because loyalty wasn't enough to make another person care, love and believe. Other things mattered even more; restraint, responsibility, pacifism. Traits none of which Harris possessed. _

"_I wish to see her, I wish to talk to her…" Mr Kirkland spoke, voice full of confidence and mixed within it was the steely resolve of a man that had made up his mind. Maybe it had taken a long time for Mr Kirkland to find the courage and will to visit his ex-wife._

"…_and Arthur too."_

_Harris froze._

_Off course, off course the man would want to see the brat.  
>Harris made one, desperate attempt to keep the disaster on his doorstep out of his life. "They don't live here." He growled. "Never heard of them." <em>

_Kirkland blinked. "But…but I'm sure that are her dressed hanging out to dry there." He pointed at the laundry that was drying in the sun, the laundry that he himself had hung up, because 'Beth had been long since unable to do such things. _

_Damn it._

_Harris frowned. "I said they don't live here." His voice was hard, he was trying to mask his growing worry and nervousness. "Now go away."_

_Now did Kirkland look taken aback and the moment of shock was quickly replaced with a look of anger and suspicion. His clear eyes moved from Harris face to forceful arms, to his strong frame and to his reddened and slightly scratched knuckles. _

_Then his eyes hardened considerably and Harris could see that Mr Kirkland would seize trying to be Mr. Nice Guy. He took a threatening step forward, his son next to him following. They seemed to move in perfect sync, but now Harris was too distracted to be jealous. His old chair groaned when he stood up with his full height; he was taller than Mr Kirkland, but shorter than the son. Nevertheless, he still tried to take an intimidating stance. _

"_Where are they?"_

"_I thought I told you to leave!"_

_Harris was about to initiate a fist fight, one he would not be able to win, when a soft creaking noise was heard and his front door opened. Freezing, Harris turned around._

_There she stood, as pretty as the day he had met her. Her dress was moving softly with the wind as she stood in the doorway. It was the same dress she had worn when they had gone to the nearby meadow, when they had walked and run through the high grass. That night they had made love –because back then it hadn't been just fucking- under the starry sky, they had whispered sweet nothings, praising words and eventually they had softly gasped out each other's names. It was one of Harris's fondest moments in his life, even though Arthur had found them that very same night passed out between the green leaves, even though the day after they had yet again another fight, which left 'Beth bleeding and crying in a corner, even though deep in his heart Harris knew 'Beth longed for another man, the same man who her clouded green eyes were focused on now, as her dress swayed and the wind played with her long golden blonde hair._

'_Beth was the love of his life, and Kirkland, Kirkland had been her's._

_Kirkland was staring back at her and he gasped. "Elizabeth…"_

_She stood there unmoving, a blossoming black bruise on her right cheek. Mind long destroyed by alcohol, drugs and the loss of her dearest son. Did she even understand? Did she understand who was standing in front of her? Did she understand that this was the man she desired? The man's who's name she called on those rare moments that she lost herself? It had been months since she had been conscious of anything around her._

_It had been months since she last spoke a word to him, yet, now, right in front of him, with her eyes focused on the man with the reddish hair and kind brown eyes, she opened her mouth and her soft voice filled the air._

"_William…"_

_She extended one arm and a serene smile came upon her face._

"_You…came…back…" _

_She was struggling to articulate, to keep her concentration long enough to speak words. Harris hadn't seen her this lucid in a very long time. She was visibly trembling with extension and from the corner of his eyes, Harris could see the horrified expression on Kirkland's face. How does it feel, Harris wondered, to see your once headstrong wife reduced to this state? _

_Is your heart breaking Kirkland? Harris hoped it was, hoped Kirkland was devastated. Hoped the man cared at least that much for the woman who could never quite stop loving the redhead, no matter how many pictures she burned, no matter how many people she slept with, no matter how much drugs and alcohol she took. _

_Do you see what you did to her by leaving?_

_Who is the monster now?_

_Harris knew it wasn't fair to think like that, knew the man had been right in leaving her with all the rumours floating around, he knew he himself had been a wretched violent man. _

_But still, in the end, Kirkland had been the one she had cared about the most._

_And no matter how comforting it may have been for him to put some of the blame of her condition on the other, this simple and undisputable fact shattered his heard in a million pieces. _

"_Dear god," 'Beth's ex-husband spoke. "what happened to you? Elizabeth, what in the name of…" The man seemed to be unable to finish his sentence as fresh tears made it into his eyes. He took several steps forwards -this time without his son following, the twenty-something male was just looking at the woman with a astonished look on his face-and made it all the way to his wife's outstretched hand, wich he gently grabbed and cradled in his chest._

"…_W-what i-is wrong with y-you?" his voice was barely a whisper, but Harris could still hear him._

'_Beth slowly moved her eyes from the place Kirkland had been standing moments ago and settled them back into the other's eyes. Her hand that was hanging at her side twitched and moved to his face; it came back wet with tears. _

_Her mouth opened again and her next words, begging and broken, felt like they stabbed into Harris's heart. Those words, once again acknowledged the biggest mistake in his life, as well as in hers. The one thing they could never forgive themselves. And suddenly Harris understood why 'Beth could speak after months of silence, he could understand why she had walked out of the front door while the past several weeks she hadn't been able to move from their bed, he could understand why her eyes were sharp enough to capture the eyes of the one person she trusted with all her heart. _

"_Please…" she whispered, strong but soft. "Find him."_

_Kirkland froze, not wanting to understand the implication of those words._

"_Find him, please, make him safe again."_

_Brown eyes widened._

"_My dearest Arthur, don't let him get hurt."_

_What followed next was hectic and messy. Elizabeth's mental state caught up with her and for a long time she could not do anything but scream and cry. William Kirkland, horrified about the fate of his stepson exploded in anger and frustration. Scott Kirkland, the other son, held his father while the man raved and insulted, all the while his brown eyes-no longer kind- filled with tears. And Harris, Harris let it all come at him, he accepted all the threats and insults thrown his way, he accepted the kicks and slaps Kirkland dealt him. He didn't even protest when they came and took 'Beth away from him. Her words still rang within him, froze him to his very core. Made him realize once again, that 'beth had been a mother, a good mother, before jealousy, loss and temptation destroyed that part of her. And he, he had played a big part in destroying the soft-spoken mother who would lovingly read Arthur bedtime stories before he went to sleep, her eyes shining as if the stories she told about magical creatures, wizards and knights were all true. The mother who would call her son poppet and who would bake burned scones with little smiley faces on them. The mother who had told him exactly which place he held in her heart, miles away from the smiling boy with the clearest green eyes and the most intoxicating smile. _

_He had taken part in destroying her and instead there was this woman, with the same smile, the same eyes, the same laugh. The woman who let herself be hit and raped, who depended on her child for protection. The woman who's intoxicated mind had betrayed her own son. The woman who could not speak but a few words of pleading for her lost son. _

_Maybe it wasn't Kirkland that brought disaster into his world, maybe he was to blame for it all. Because let's face it, 'Beth needed care, Arthur needed another home, and he needed to be alone, far away from his loved ones so he would never, ever be able to hurt them anymore._

_He was monster, he knew, a dirty despicable monster._

_Like father, like son, it seemed. _

"Hate me, arrest me, hit me," Harris told them. "I don't care, my life is in shambles anyway. Just tell me one thing. Tell me why you are asking questions about Arthur?"

The man who made his brother suffer was looking at them with an intense look. Alfred didn't know what he thought about this man. On the one side he wanted to pummel the man into oblivion for hurting his brother, for making him run away, for having a hand in the destruction of Elizabeth White. On the other side, the man seemed to genuinely hate himself for all that he had done and if Alfred was completely honest, he could not pin the entirety of the blame on the man. No matter how much he wanted to defend the poor woman in the hospital, mind destroyed and a victim of abuse, he couldn't deny that the person who had caused his brother the most suffering was most definitely her. Alfred's blood boiled at the thought of how those two _adults_ had treated a young boy. There was no excuse, no justification; Arthur had been too young for the responsibilities that had been thrust on his shoulder, he had been too young to be treated that way, he had been _far _too young to be forced into the outside world, to manage living on the street alone.

But had he been alone?

The person that came back again and again in Arthur's life;

Francis.

Francis who had been his brother's friend, Francis who would pick him up after a nasty fight with Harris Morrison, Francis who had taken a baseball bat and defended his best friend.

Francis who would die just a few short years later.

No, Alfred decided, he would not take pity on this man. He would not take pity on Harris Morrison, no matter how much his life was in shambles, no matter what he had went through in his youth. Not a thing could be a justification for the way the man had treated his brother. _Nothing_ could erase the suffering his brother went through, nothing.

The man should not be forgiven for his sins.

So Alfred's voice was laced with steel when he spoke. "Arthur's dead."

Harris shot up, his eyes wild and disbelieving. His arms trembled, his frame began to shake. Denial blossomed in his eyes. His voice was soft. "H-he can't be, h-he is young! O-only twenty-seven years old!"

"_Was_." Alfred didn't even blink. "Arthur _was_ twenty-seven years old."

What followed was silence, in which Harris shakily brought his hand to his mouth. His eyes staring blankly at the carpet. "…dead?"

"Murdered." Came Matthias cold voice. "He was murdered." Harris slowly looked up, into Matthias eyes. Alfred shuddered at what those would look like right about now. "Tell me, Harris Morrison, where were you, the twenty-eight of July?"

The man's eyes widened. "Y-you can't possibly b-believe that I…!"

Matthias stood, his intimidating frame hovering threatening over the other man. "Seeing your history, seeing the amount of things you are likely willing to hide ánd seeing you are a _disgusting pig of a man_, I am very likely to believe. Now, where were you the twenty-eight of July?"

Cold anger was radiating from Matthias, it seemed that even less so than Alfred could the oldest blonde sympathize with Arthur's step father. From the corner of his eye Alfred saw Matthew laying a comforting hand on Matthias's clenched fist.

"I-I was here." Harris stuttered. "The whole day, a-a few friend can verify-"

"their _numbers._" Matthias forcefully uttered.

A few minutes later, Harris had shakily given the numbers of his friends, which Matthias had all but snagged from his hands. After that he had abruptly declared that they were leaving. Before they left, however, Harris had one more question.

"Does she know?" His voice soft, his body slumped and defeated, still sitting in that chair.

Matthias was already at the door, fist clenched and with his back to the man. Matthew was standing next to him, a hand on the blonde's shoulder and half turned towards Alfred, who he gave a mournful look. Alfred himself stood before the man.

"Yes." He answered. "Yes, she knows."

Harris nodded and slowly looked up. "H-how did she take it?"

Alfred was about to answer when a chilling, cold, steely voice interrupted him. "Is that all you care about, you dirty mongrel?"

"Matthias…" Matthew softly whispered.

"Is that all you care about? That woman?" Matthias was still standing with his back towards them, but he was visibly shaking in anger. "Arthur Kirkland is dead…" His voice broke. "He was twenty seven years old, and you made part of his life horrible. You are despicable, if I wasn't a man of the law I would grab my gun and shoot a bullet straight through your legs."

With those parting words Matthias stormed out of the house. Matthew soon followed, shooting his brother a worried look. Alfred watched them go, watched the door slam shut and shot a final glance at the defeated man in the chair.

"Aren't you going after them?" the broken man asked.

"You…you had an awful childhood too didn't you?" Alfred asked, his voice tight. "From what I understood, you also suffered…"

"Yes.." Harris looked up. "I did, maybe that's why-"

"But Arthur never hit us, he never hurt us. He had the same kind of childhood like you, only he grew up to be a great person…"

"Kid, what-"

"You blame a lot of things you do on the experiences in your childhood don't you? But what you did, there's nothing you can blame it on but yourself. Not your circumstances, not Elizabeth White, not even your father."

Harris glared. "And what would a pampered little kid know about-"

"In the end we are all responsible for our own actions. Matthias is right, you are despicable, but, something in me pities you too."

And with those parting words, Alfred left his older brother's childhood home. A home not filled with laughter and happiness, but screams and despair. The only remaining citizen a defeated bitter man, still helplessly in love with a woman who had long ago forgotten about him.

When Alfred walked out of the house and stepped into the yard, only Matthew was left in the garden. His twin was mournfully looking at the house next to Arthur's childhood home, the house were the Bonnefoy's had lived. Now it looked abandoned.

"Mattie?" Alfred joined his twin. "Where's Matthias?"

His twin shook his head and gave him a sad look. "He said he was going to check out those names, but…" His mouth twitched a tiny bit. "I think he needed a moment alone, he was really, really furious."

Alfred nodded, there was nothing left to say. They were all angry, they were all sad, but Matthias was the only one who saw those cases every day on his job. Beaten families, abused children, wrecked homes, for Alfred and Matthew it was something that stood far away from them, it was hard to imagine such a life. But for Matthias, it seemed that Matthias could very well imagine the life his best friend had lived.

"He could probably hear everything, the houses are so close together…" Matthew shook Alfred from his thoughts.

"Whatnow?"

"Francis, he must've heard them every time."

Alfred took in the other house and sighed before slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Yeah, he probably did." He tightened his arms around his brother. "Kind of sad to think, that even though a lot of people could hear, the only person that came to the rescue was a kid himself."

They remained silent after that and started to walk to the car (Matthias had left it for them), on the way back to the hotel, Alfred was at once struck with an idea.

He smiled, there was only one person who could get his mind of all of this. There was one person who would be able to lift his spirits.

Kiku.

"Say Mattie, how about a little detour?"

* * *

><p>The mansion always took his breath away, it was so incredibly beautiful and extravagant. The garden spacious and so very green. It was all fitted for a man of great wealth, Toris knew, and it seemed to fit with Ivan to a certain degree, just as –in the past- the abandoned building of their childhood had fitted Ivan, in a very different way. Luxury was something that belonged with Ivan, just like poverty and chaos did. Toris could never really make up his mind if Ivan was happier now, with all the power and influence he had required, or back then, poor and abandoned, oppressed, pressured but still together with everyone. Even Toris himself didn't really know what he preferred; his new life, with all its complications, or his old life, when everything was so simple, horrible, but simple. There had been no sides to choose, no question of loyalty. They had been street rats and all they had was each other. It was different now, Toris no longer knew who to trust, who to be loyal too.<p>

The guards recognized him immediately and as the gates slowly opened, creaking ominously into the night, Toris felt the familiar nervousness settle in his stomach, the feeling he always got when he went to visit Ivan. He tightened his hands on the sunflower in his hands, the paper that was wrapped around it protecting his hands from the sharp thorns that littered the steel. Once the gate opened, one of the guards nodded his approval for Toris to proceed. Toris took a deep breath, looking out at the mansion illuminated by the almost full moon and the stony road that lead towards it. Then he walked, with short determent steps. Because this visit would be an important one, Toris knew it, he knew the moment Matthias Kohler asked about Arthur that things were going to change. It was in that moment Toris started to doubt his loyalty and his trust. Arthur had been _killed_, Ivan had told him months ago, but was the culprit to be found in London? It seemed like the three blondes thought it to be. Toris wasn't stupid and neither was Ivan, they knew exactly who those three were; a quick –and illegal-look into the database had solved that mystery, nor was it hard to figure out the intention of those three. But what worried Toris, was that Ivan had started to move, that Ivan had every intention to keep a close eye on those three…Why? Toris could think of a few options, very plausible and innocent options, but he could also think of a darker and more sinister reason for Ivan to take interest, and Toris did not like that at all.

At the door, Toris ignored the bell and instead moved a hand beneath his jacket and shirt, he grabbed the key that hung from his neck. Silently, he placed the key in the keyhole and turned it, the sound of a door unlocking startled him. Toris couldn't help but smile to himself; Ivan had not changed the locks, it seemed Toris still had his complete and utter trust. Even though Ivan had lost his. Toris didn't even feel guilt about this; he sure had changed. The door creaked when it was opened, and Toris stepped inside, the familiar surroundings filling his heart with nostalgia. He knew where he was supposed to go, so he walked up the impossibly large staircase and up to the first floor. Once there, it was the second door on the right. Toris could hear voices coming from the room, but ease dropping wasn't something one did in Ivan Bravinski's mansion, so he knocked two times and entered.

Toris wasn't surprised to see Gilbert there in the office with Ivan. He was disappointed, crushed even, but he had expected it nevertheless. Ivan was sitting behind his desk, ever the picture of power and intimidation. Gilbert was standing before Ivan, hands placed and he desk and a decidedly upset look on his face. When Toris stepped into the room, both men turned to him. Toris noticed Gilbert's eyes widen in recognition, and he was reminded that it had been quite some time since he and Gilbert had met in person. Toris let an easy smile slip on his face, the kind of smile that always took refuge on his face when he was uncomfortable, when he was near Ivan.

"H-hello Gilbert, Ivan." His voice, unsteady, increased the already touchable tension in the room. "I hope I'm not i-interupting?"

Gilbert flinched, clearly realising Toris was also caught in whatever Ivan had planned out in his twisted mind. Ivan himself was silent, only silently smiling that childish smile of his. That smile was the worst thing about Ivan, it reminded Toris of both how cruel and venerable the Russian could be.

"Toris!" Gilbert tried to sound upbeat and carefree, but Toris could clearly hear the tension in his old friend's voice. "What are you doing here?"

Toris merely smiled and stepped forward, past Gilbert and towards Ivan. With slightly trembling fingers he lay the wrapped sunflower before the Russian, who seemed pleased with the gesture. Ivan seemed to no longer mind that Toris couldn't meet his eyes nor stop his body from shaking when the big man was in the vicinity. Toris could clearly remember a time when Ivan would've been heartbroken with that.

Ivan's cold eyes moved from the sunflower to Toris's own eyes and the latter had to supress a shiver. With the cildish smile still plastered firmly on his face, Ivan spoke to the smaller male.

"Toris, what a surprise." His words were spoken without emotion, but Toris knew that Ivan was extremely confused by his sudden appearance. "I did not expect you to come visit me tonight, it has been a long time we spoke face to face, da?"

It had been, Toris realized, years and years since he had last seen that pale hair, that big frame, those dishonest eyes. Sure, they _had_ spoken occasionally on the phone, but it was there that Toris had drawn the line. The current turn of events had changed a lot within his life.

Toris nodded and lifted his head. "It has. Though the same can be said of Gilbert, can't it? How long had it been that you two saw each other?" He was surprised his voice had sounded steady and strong. Toris had always been like that, strong when he needed it most, weak when confronted with his own fears and desires.

Ivan frowned. "Are you implying something, my little flower?" Their eyes locked and Toris was momentarily thrown off by the endearment, until he realised that had been the whole point of his old nickname. Toris once again was confronted with the severity of the change within Ivan.

"What are you planning?" Toris did his best to make his voice sound strong and unwavering, it was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

Realisation seemed to seep into the big Russian, and his expression became thunderous. The Russian abruptly stood, the chair he had been sitting on falling down onto the ground with a loud clatter. After that Ivan stood motionless, paralysing Toris with his very eyes, eyes that bore into his soul. It took every ounce of willpower for Toris to remain standing and to not turn around an flee the place, the beautiful mansion that once could've been his home. Ivan seemed to have realised that Toris didn't trust him anymore.

Gilbert stepped forwards, obviously not understanding the situation, but nevertheless comprehending the severity of it. He placed his hand on Toris's shoulder.

"I am here by my own free will Toris." His voice was quiet, so unlike himself. "We want to find the people responsible for Arthur's dead… Ivan thinks he found them."

Poor, misinformed Gilbert. Toris knew exactly who Ivan had pointed out to be the bad guys.

Toris broke eye contact with Ivan to look up at Gilbert, he hadn't changed much he noted, still those fierce red eyes and that snowy white hair. But there were wrinkles in his face that shouldn't have been there. Sharp lines that had formed because years of suffering and sadness. Yes, Toris realised, Gilbert must've suffered a lot because of Arthur's dead, he had probably suffered the most out of all of them.

"Alfred F. Jones," Toris started. "Matthew Williams and Matthias Kohler. Isn't that right?" Toris saw the surprise in Gilberts eyes. "You are not the only one Ivan relies on Gilbert. I was the first to notice them, though I think Ivan knew of their existence long before that."

Slowly a grin formed on the albino's face. "Hah! I should've known you were informed too! Why do I always forget how resourceful you can be!"

Toris nodded. "And what are you doing here Gilbert?"

"I've come to help Ivan in finding the assholes who killed my old friend. Ivan said he had a way to find out, so I came to him. Those three people are suspicious, as are their actions, maybe they aren't the killers, but I have a feeling they can be the key in unlocking the truth. I'm going to keep a close eye on them-"

"Gilbert." Ivan's strong voice interrupted. "Leave."

Gilbert shut up immediately, hearing the hidden threat in the Russian's voice. He gave a last glance towards Toris – the hand on Toris's shoulder squeezed reassuringly- and turned around. When he arrived at the door, Gilbert's voice spoke up once again.

"I will do what you ask, Ivan. But whatever I find, my loyalty towards Arthur will never waver."

And with that Gilbert disappeared out of the room, his footsteps could be heard walking away and now Toris was alone with a displeased looking Russian. There was a minute of silence, before Toris manned up and opened his mouth.

"why?" He asked and Ivan seemed to slink back behind his childish mask. The man straightened his chair and went to sit down again.

"I do not understand to question, little Toris. Maybe you should be somewhat clearer, da?"

"I looked them up for you, you know this. They all have alibi's, Arthur's two brother's and his close friend, they did not kill him. You _know _this, yet you still send out Gilbert to investigate them, yet you still enlist me to hack their personal files. What are you after Ivan?"

A childish smile was his only answer. Toris clenched his fists, why had it turned out like this?

"Why are you using us to monitor their movements? Why are you… Why are you acting like those three are your enemies? Why are you lying to Gilbert? Why are you trying to keep me in the dark?"

Ivan leaned heavily on his desk, eyes so very, very cold and smile so very, very cruel. "You are asking a lot of questions, da? As for our beloved Gilbert; he knows exactly who those three are, though he would never admit it, I have merely not informed him of something he already knows. My little Toris, can't you accept that I am merely trying to get as much information as possible regarding not only Arthur's dead, but also his life in London? As you know very well, we all had intriguing secrets, some of them should've never been buried."

Toris eyes widened, that night so long ago flashing before his eyes.

_Gilbert was shaking while Toris bandaged his bruised and bloodied knuckles. His red eyes haunted, tears still streaming down from his face. Toris was shaking too, from the sheer horror, from the sadness invading his heart, from the crippling fear that would never truly leave his body again. The room they were in was cold, but Gilberts skin felt hot to the touch. "He is dead, Toris." Gilbert sobbed. "Francis is dead."_

_Ivan was standing in the corner of the room, emotionless as always, he heavy voice broke through Gilbert's desperate sobs and Toris own pained whimpers. "What about Arthur?" Because without Francis there was no Arthur, just like there was no Francis without Arthur._

_Gilbert curled up into himself, emitting a wail of despair. "He is lost, the police took him away."_

"Ivan…" Toris started. "What are you planning?"

The Russian's eyes smouldered. "That is not the question you really want to ask, is it Toris?" This one time, his name was uttered without any affection is its tone.

What did he want to ask? What was his biggest concern? What had driven him to visit Ivan once again, even after he vowed to himself to be independent from the Russian? Was it Ivan sudden actions? His persistence to know everything that was found out about Arthur's dead? Or was it the feeling he had, that feeling that Ivan was falling, falling into the black pit of despair that he himself created? Or was it simply the fact that he could not believe that Ivan had done anything to one of their own?

What did he want to ask?

What answer did he crave?

"I-Ivan…" His stutter was back. "Did y-you kill Arthur?"

* * *

><p>Because whatever answer he might get, one thing was obvious; Toris did no longer trust Ivan, no matter how much he still may love him.<p>

There really wasn't any other way to say it, no other way to explain the ridiculous situation they were in than to just tell the absolute truth, the current situation, the bare facts

They were in a tree.

Yes, yes, it's true.

A. Tree.

And not in some hypothetical way or used as some sort of expression. No, they were psychically in a tree. A tree that stood opposite of a house, a house that was currently being resided in by a lovely family of four and their guest for the week; a guest that was competing for an important kendo event, an event they had witnessed several days previous.

In short; they were stalking Alfred's ex-boyfriend…_again._

"Alfred, I'm pretty sure this is illegal." Matthew tried to reason with his brother, who was intently staring at the window to the guest room; Kiku's room. No movement had been detected yet and they had been there for hours.

Matthew found himself wondering; why had he promised Alfred he would help him out with Kiku? Last time he checked he wasn't that stupid. Maybe Alfred had just secretly gotten him drunk and he had failed to notice.

"Nah, bro, off course not. Now, can you hand me my bag?" Alfred asked (far too loudly, somebody was going to notice them if Alfred wasn't more careful).

Matthew sighed, well, since he was already sucked in deep enough…"Here," He handed Alfred his bag, the other blonde immediately latching on to it and digging in to it with an enthusiasm nobody could imitate. "I'm just looking for…Ah! Here it is!"

And that was it.

The drop that spilled the glass. The last straw. The icing on the cake.

Alfred had pulled out a pair of binoculars.

Binoculars.

Now, Matthew might not know a whole lot about love, or relationships, or ex-boyfriends for that matter. But spying on an ex in the middle of the night high up in a tree while looking through binoculars (binoculars!) most definitely wasn't very normal, sane, safe, morally justified or a reason to get pledged not-guilty before an accusation of stalking. His brother had most definitely gone down the deep end.

"Alfred!" the soft-spoken blonde hissed.

"Yeah?" The idiot blonde asked back (again far too loudly).

"You can't do that!" He nervously glanced at the window, praying nobody would notice them, he _knew _Alfred would get them into trouble. "Give them here!"

"What, these?" Alfred through a confused glance the smoking gun he had clutched into his hands. "Why?"

"Yes, these!" Matthew made a grab for them, but Alfred simply dodged, which wasn't very hard; since they were both residing on different branches. "You're being a stalker!"

Alfred's eyes widened innocently (who was he freaking kidding?). "No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! Now gimme!"

"No Mattie, listen, I'm just making sure that no harm befalls my beautiful-"

"By spying on him? By watching his every move?" Matthew interrupted. "What, if he happens to walk into his room and started undressing or something, would you still be spying; making sure nobody could _harm_ him?"

"Of course! Undressing is very dangerous, remember when Matthias tripped on his shoelace and fell down the stairs? _Thirteen _stitches Mattie! Serious stuff right there! Plus, Well…I did bring donuts,-"

"Oh my god!" Matthew threw a disgusted look to his brother.

"Mattie, chill, I'm just kidding." Alfred reassured him with a chuckle and a bump-to the shoulder bump." If something like that would happen I would be a total gentleman, just like Arthur taught us to be."

"But, we're sitting in a tree, darn it!"

"It's a brilliant idea! A tree is espionage, it's like were James Bond, or Indiana Jones or.. or…"Alfred's eyes seemed to glow in the dark, emitting hopeful admiration. "BATMAN!"

"Alfred! Shhhhhh…! They're going to hear us!"

"Ow sorry..." Alfred shot him a grin, his ugly-stupid face shining with childish enthusiasm. "But you've gotta admit, we're being pretty badass right here, aren't we? Saving the damsel in distress?"

"Stop with your weird fantasies, Alfred! Kiku isn't a princess (or a woman) and we're not 'saving' him. You, however, are being a jealous creep!"

"I'm not! I'm being romantic! Like in those books Arthur used to read, what was that dudes name again? Cakespear? Schmakespeare?"

"I believe you are referring to Shakespeare, Alfred Jones."

Matthew froze, he was not the one who said that.

As usual, Alfred was rather slow in the up taking, for he turned his head towards the window, gave Kiku (who was standing in his room, by his window, with a katana in his hand) a thankful nod, and turned around again to continue his argument with Matthew.

"Yeah, Like those stories that Shakespeare wrote, you know, Romeo and Juliet and the balcony-" realisation seemed to seep in to the other's tiny brain as he frowned, blinked and again turned his head to the no-longer-abandoned window.

Next came the flashy (and awkward) grin before in his limitless and never ending wisdom, Alfred addressed his lost love. "Kiku, what a…What a surprise meeting you here… Do you come here often?"

Matthew groaned, Kiku cocked his head to the side (which would've been incredibly cute, if he hadn't also unsheathed a little part of his blade and was currently emitting a furiously dangerous aura) and Alfred didn't stop.

"Ehmmm. So…do you?"

"You're in a tree." Matthew admired the complete lack of emotion in Kiku's voice, personally, he would've freaked out ages ago.

"Y-yeah, you know; just ehmmm… chilling out…a…a bit. So ehmm, Kiku! Long-time no see eh? I see you've… grown… and eehm…oh yeah! Ahum; My lenses turn dark in the sunshine of your love."

Matthew groaned again, apparently, his brother had decided that it was a good idea to 'whoo' Kiku with the pick-up lines he had read in Matthias's little black book the night before. Matthew prayed to god to install the wisdom in his brother to _shut up._

"There isn't any sun, it's night." Kiku's deadpan voice replied. Again, a little more shiny silver katana appeared." Furthermore, we haven't seen each other in a very long time, Jones, and these are the words you choose to speak to me?" For a second, Matthew saw hurt flash through Kiku's eyes. However, the hurt was quickly replaced by the anger once again. "I will ask you one more time, what are you doing here? If you don't answer immediately, I will wish you a nice fall to the ground." The katana was completely unsheathed and raised now and Matthew felt impending doom foster in his heart.

"No, wait!" Alfred yelled. "I want to talk to you!"

Kiku raised his eyebrows. "Talk?"

"Yes! About what happened and stuff!"

"Why would I want to talk to you?" Kiku's voice betrayed some emotion in that sentence, it seemed he was still bitter about the break-up. "When you had the chance, _you_ certainly didn't want to talk to me."

Alfred winced as if he'd been slapped, before sadly nodding. "I know and you didn't deserve that… just, please? Can we just talk?"

For a long time both former lovers kept staring at each other, a thick tension in the air. Alfred seemed desperate, Kiku was unreadable.

Finally Kiku spoke. "Fine. I'll see you in two days, at the park where you were spying on me."

"Yes! Thanks Kiku, you won't regret…" Alfred said. "wait, you knew about that-"

"It's agreed." Kiku closed his eyes, before raising his katana once again. "Now, goodbye."

And not even a second later the branch was severed clean through and both Matthew and Alfred lay on a heap on the ground. They lay there for a while, in considerable pain. Before both entangled themselves from each other and the branch. Matthew looked at his brother, his brother looked back sheepishly.

"Smooth, Alfred, real smooth." Matthew sarcastically told his brother.

"Oh, shut up." Alfred countered. "At least I got his attention."

Yes, Matthew contemplated, when they were well on their way to their hotel, Alfred had gotten the Asian boy's attention all right. But was that really a good thing? Hadn't Alfred just completely obliterated the remaining trust Kiku still had for him? His last remaining respect? Or had the boy been moved by Alfred's determination? His love? Matthew knew Alfred really loved Kiku, he had seen it in the devotion in his eyes. Most probably, Alfred didn't know how to deal with getting the Asian teen back; hence the tree fiasco.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

Alfred nodded at him, before staring of ahead, looking but not really seeing. "Maybe…Maybe you were right, in the tree I mean, Maybe I am going a little overboard. I just…I just really wished something would go right for a change, you now?"

"Alfred…"

"I really, really miss him, and I really, really want him back. I just don't…"

"You just don't know how?"

"Yeah…" Alfred smiled. "you know, Arthur would always try to give me relationship advice, and I always tried my best to ignore it… but, in the end; his advice always seemed to work." He sighed. "Which is strange him being an old hermit and all. I know I'm being a whiny bitch, but… It just seems like everything is just going downhill; like everything is just slipping away from me. First our parents, then Arthur, then Kiku… Now were here, in beautiful London and we're hearing heart-breaking story after heart-breaking story… Sometimes, I just become so desperate to _fix_ something, I just want something to fix. Maybe then, I won't feel so goddamned angry all the time…"

Matthew didn't know how to react to that, not so long ago, he would've known exactly what to say to make his brother feel better again. But now, he hadn't even a clue. Furthermore, Alfred wasn't the only one upset; they were all dealing with it.

"What about you?" Alfred spoke up. "How are you dealing with everything? Doesn't it break you down? I get angry and lose control…But you… Sure, I can see everything affects you too, I know it affects you too… But through it all, you stay so goddamn strong." Alfred clenched his fist. "Not once did you lose it to your emotions, not once…"

"Alfred, I-I'm not strong…" _God, if Alfred only knew how weak he really was…_

"Yes you are! And honestly… It kills me to know how far we've grown apart, I mean; we've been totally cool with each other recently and that's a total improvement, but anything could set us off, I know that. And well, I used to know everything you were thinking, I used to read you like a book… but not anymore, I can't figure you out anymore… And I want that to change, I Just want to go back to the way things were, you know, before. I know Arthur can't rise from the death, but I want you and… and I want Kiku too."

Unwittingly Alfred had just spoke the very thoughts that had circled around in Matthews had a few seconds previous. Matthew shot his brother a sympathetic look. "At least we're no ignoring each other anymore, Alfred, It will all be okay in the end, I promise."

"Hah" Alfred smiled sadly "We really destroyed something good didn't we?

Matthew answered his smile. "I guess we did, but there's always time to build it back up again."

And Matthew meant it, because just like Alfred, he wanted it so very badly.

_Rain hit the ground in a terrible downpour, as if the skies itself were weeping for their lost brother. Matthew could feel every drop, could sense every smell, could hear every sound. He was conscious of everything around him, so very, very aware. It hurt, so incredibly much._

_It hurt to see the always smiling Alfred looking so cold and numb, it hurt seeing Matthias barely holding on, the tears permantely staining his cheeks. It hurt watching that coffin descend in the ground. _

_His hand was strangely devoid of comfort or warmth, this time, Arthur wasn't there to hold it. This time, it seemed he stood alone._

_But he didn't want to, dear god knew that he did not, he didn't want to bear the burden that was on his trembling shoulders, he did not want it, but mostly, he did want to bear it alone. _

_Violet eyes took in the straight back that belonged to his brother._

_Strong confident Alfred. Alfred who had done everything possible to save their brother, Alfred who hadn't even shed a single tear since it happened, Alfred who was the one person he could trust with all his heart and soul._

_Alfred, who he might be able to tell the truth to, share the burden that lay so heavy on his shoulders. _

_Alfred, who might be able to save him._

_Hesitant, slowly, Matthew creped forwards, till he was standing right next to his beloved twin. The smaller blonde took a moment to study the other's face in more detail, but he could see no more that rain on his skin and a coldness in his eyes, a coldness that had never sought refuge in the sunny blonde before. Scared of the expression, shocked beyond believe, Matthew turned his eyes away, down towards the ground._

_It seemed like they had both changed._

_But maybe, Matthew moved his arm, unclenched his hand and sought Alfred's own, maybe…_

_He finally found it, hanging lifelessly, open. With a tiny spark of hope, Matthew slided his hand in Alfred's. It was the only thing that was warm, the only thing that seemed to unfreeze his heart just a tiny bit, the only thing that gave him the courage he so desperately needed._

_Maybe, even after all this, they could still have each other…_

_But before he could suck in just a tiny bit of warmth, before the first cracks could appear in the ice surrounding his heart, before he had enough courage to even believe he could lessen his terrible guilt, before any of this had a chance to occur…_

_Alfred made a annoyed sound in the back of his throat and tugged his hand free. Matthew stood there frozen, as the rain continued to pour, as he felt the cold consume him, as the ice circled his heart into an impenetrable barrier, as guilt slammed into him like it had never before. _

_It seemed that even strong, confident, wonderful Alfred could smell the dirt that marred Matthew's very soul._

Matthew didn't like to think of that day, he didn't like to think of the day his one brother was buried and the other rejected him. He didn't like to think about the months after that either, when he had buried himself into every chore, every assignment available to him, so that he could just be busy, that maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could forget.

Sure, Matthew had been opposed to the trip from the very beginning, he still was, in a very real and convincing way; but he couldn't deny that the trip hadn't been good for them. Yes, Alfred was right; the stories they heard were not stories that were easy to hear, to take. But they were stories about _their _brother, they were stories about suffering, commitment and love, and Matthew couldn't wait to hear them all, to hear everything there was to know about his big brother. Furthermore, the trip had been good for _Matthew and Alfred_; they were forced to interact once again, and Matthew had forgotten how much he really loved Alfred.

"Matthew?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I might not be able to read you anymore, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know something's up with you…Are you okay?"

"_Matthew! Are you all right?" A British voice yelled, full of worry and despair. Meanwhile the young teen could only accepted the tender embrace that followed; Arthur was here, he was safe._

Was he alright?

_He stumbled into the garden, were nobody was watching him, before his legs collapsed from under him and he fell to his knees. It was dark out and the stairs were shining brightly on him. That night he wept, not out of sadness, not out of pain or anger. No, he cried real tears of relieve, because even though his brother had died and his heart was still encaged in a prison of ice, he could finally start believing in his own innocence, he could finally let go of the horrible guilt that kept chasing him. He wanted to forget, he was allowing himself to at least attempt to forget._

"…Mattie?"

Was he okay? It seemed, under the circumstances he was holding on. And although he could not be entirely truthful towards Alfred or Matthias, he was beginning to realise that didn't matter all that much.

_Alfred came with the idea of going to England, of finding the person who hurt their brother. Matthew wanted whoever hurt Arthur to burn in hell for all eternity, but he could not forget his big brother's wishes nor could he ignore his heavy heart. For some reason, he was not able to forget, to let it all go. Going to London was only going to worsen this, it was only going to add to his doubt, Matthew did not want that._

_He did not want to go to England._

What mattered, what Arthur would've wanted, was for them to become a family once again. A family, they weren't there yet, but they were going into the right direction.

A family.

That, it seemed, must've been Arthur's true last wish.

* * *

><p>Letters to you.<p>

_Arthur,_

_I managed to sneak back just fine, but I can't come tomorrow. How is it there? Are Gilbert and Elizabeth still nice to you? They seemed okay, especially that Gilbert, the way he insulted your eyebrows was trés manifique and creative too! Elizabeth I'm a little afraid of though…_

_Alors, ma Cherie, I will see you in about three days: mother seems to have come down with something and I would like to take care of her a little._

_Au revoir,_

_Francis_

* * *

><p>I hope you all liked it! A special thanks to all my reviewers out there who kept reviewing even after I was silent for so many months. The reason that I didn't wright is old and much used; it was a writers block. But it wasn't only that, I needed to figure some stuff out in RL, which are still prominent in my mind now, but I shall not bore my dear readers with my problems!<p>

I only hope that the chapter was to the satisfation for those that waited both long and short.

If it is not to much trouble, please leave a review! I'm ashamed to admit how much they truly motivate me!


	9. The Red-Eyed Stranger

**I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 The Red-eyed Stranger, The Cute Bartender And The Ex-boyfriend<strong>

_Kiku stared at Alfred, who lay on his bed, back facing the dark-haired boy. loud music disrupted the peace in the room. Alfred hadn't even acknowledged him when he came into the room. Kiku knew the other had noticed his presence however, judging from the added tension in the boys back._

_In the past, before his so carefully constructed happy bubble had burst apart, Kiku would've told Alfred that he was being impolite. Of course, the Alfred from the past would've never treated him this way. _

_So cold, so detached. Completely ignoring him. _

_It was very painful._

"…_Alfred." He tried._

_The back in front of him tensed, the music kept blasting into the room, but the blonde in front of him did not utter a single word. His own hands started to tremble and Kiku could feel a great weight enter his heart. _

"_Alfred," He tried again. With slight hesitation, he added. "Alfred, please…"_

_Immediately he lowered his eyes to the ground. Self-disgust and humiliation came upon him. Kiku was a proud man, proud men never begged. His father had taught him that he should always refrain from asking for favours, for asking help. His father had always told him the family pride went before everything, absolutely everything. Begging was the worst form of leaving ones pride behind, Kiku knew that. Yet he had not only spoken that blasted word, but with a tone that did not disguise his despair and sadness. But it did not matter, if it was Alfred, it did not matter. _

_Nothing really mattered._

"_What did you say?" a somewhat surprised voice spoke up and kiku quickly lifted his eyes to lock them with the one he loved, toward his sun. But Alfred's eyes did not shine or twinkle, they were dull and numb. They were empty. And Kiku cursed every deity he knew because he couldn't seem to clear those eyes up. _

"_Alfred-"_

"_What just came out of your mouth?" Alfred seemed to sneer. "What pathetic noise did you just make?"_

_Kiku's eyes widened and he balled his fists. "Alfred, I know you're angry-"_

_Alfred shot up, rage seeming to settle on his face. But Kiku knew that if you looked careful enough, the rage was nothing but despair._

"_Damn right I'm angry!" He screamed, he seemed to have decided that ignoring his boyfriend was not the way to go. Alfred took a step closer, and Kiku counted the wrinkles creasing his forehead. "I'm fucking angry! To have my own boyfriend betray me!"_

_Kiku sighed, he knew that Alfred was going to say this. "Alfred, I did not betray you."_

_Alfred laughed, a hard, mocking terrible laugh. "You didn't betray me, did you? Then what do you call telling fucking Matthias about where I was last Saturday? What do you call telling him I need help?! I don't need anything like that Kiku! Not from Matthias, not from Matthew and certainly not from you!"_

_Silence reigned between them then, Alfred panting from yelling and Kiku processing the words Alfred had said, they cut through him, because it made him face the reality he already knew to be true._

'_I don't need you.'_

_Alfred did not need him anymore. The realisation came upon him like a sword tearing through flesh; He could not help Alfred anymore. He was done, it was over._

_Kiku took an deep breath, willing his tears away. Alfred was still in front of him, waiting for a reaction, waiting for the opportunity to yell once more, to tell Kiku exactly why he was so displeased. When the first tear made it across his face, Kiku saw Alfred recoil back, as he had never expected his Kiku to have such a strong emotional reaction because of his words. For a moment, a single second, Kiku thought he saw the old Alfred again._

"…_Alfred,"_

'_I don't need you.'_

_It was too late, Kiku could not repair Alfred's heart just like Alfred would not be able to heal Kiku's, not anymore. Alfred had changed, Alfred was rude, Alfred was threatening, Alfred was cheating on him and Alfred __did not need him anymore._

"_Let us end this relationship."_

Kiku was a patient boy, he was patient, polite and some would even call him quiet. He possessed dark hair and dark eyes, some would say he they seemed as black as the night. Of course, Kiku supposed, if he was the night, than surely Alfred was the sun. His eyes the ever blue sky, his hair matching the colour of the sun, his personality bright, cheerful and unpredictable. They were so different from each other and many had wondered how they worked the relationship out. When someone had asked, Kiku would always just smile, barely daring to suggest that they complemented each other.

Which was a lie.

Kiku had known, even when their relationship was in full swing, that the difference in them was too great. He had known Alfred needed constant attention and adventure, needed new and exciting things to do, when all Kiku needed was to forever stay how they were that moment. Even in those days when their relationship had been at its best, with nights that would make Kiku blush and days that could make his heart flutter into his chest, even in those days. Kiku had known it wouldn't last, he had known he could never keep the American indefinitely to himself. Alfred may have cared about him, Kiku knew this to be true, but he would never be enough for Alfred. He could never met the pace Alfred set, racing forward in his life. He could never be that person Kiku knew Alfred craved; exciting, energetic, wild. Sometimes Kiku wondered if there could ever be someone who was just that.

They had met the third day of his first week at the American school. Kiku had been nervous and disorientated and Alfred had been kind and helpful. It was not long before a friendship floundered. One build on computer games and manga, superheroes and a particular love for McDonalds. Friendship turned to attraction, and attraction soon turned into something that could be best described as love.

It had been wonderful, something Kiku had never dared to believe could happen to him. He had been raised all his life to resist temptation and restrict himself. But there, in Alfred's awaiting embrace, he could be himself completely. All the while knowing that the person he was would most likely not be enough for Alfred.

The first sign their relationship was cracking was the night Kiku found Alfred in bed with a bottle of hard liquor, laughing and joking with two scarcely dressed females. Kiku had ran away and Alfred had followed. But Kiku had realised that he was starting to lose his boyfriend, so apparent that Alfred was seeking other people to entertain himself with. They made up, but panic lingered.

Kiku knew then, knew it without a doubt. He was not good enough for someone like Alfred.

Be that as it may, Kiku had still loved –yes, loved- the other with all his heart. Their relationship lasted for one year, ten months and sixteen days. To his surprise, he was the one that ended it. Kiku had seen how devastated Alfred was after Arthur's dead. He had seen the once happy blonde revert to a mere shell of himself. He had seen Alfred lock up his heart and throw away the key, not for him to find. Kiku had tried, though, he really had. But Alfred could be mean if he wanted to be and everything he said seemed to be strengthening the forever present doubts in his heart.

It had hurt.

To see Alfred broken, to hear him say those things he would've never said before, to see him do things he would've never done. To see the eyes the colour of the sky cloud over and raining tears that never seemed to fall. His sun had left him, replaced by someone Kiku didn't recognize anymore.

Kiku had prayed everyone to forgive him, to forgive that he could not handle it anymore. That he could not watch Alfred destroy himself anymore. He could not stay with someone who clearly had enough of him.

But what now? Now that Alfred seemed to have returned, months after their break-up?

Was he really ready to face Alfred once again? When his heart was still in shatters and when Alfred did not seem to have regained the sky-blue eyes he once possessed? He did seem different, but Kiku knew without a doubt, that Alfred was not who he used to be, not even close, no matter how much he tried to hide that fact.

Kiku guessed he had no choice but to see what would happen from here on out.

* * *

><p>There's wasn't much he could do right now, it was far too late to make any progress searching if Harris Garrison spoke the truth. Though Matthias didn't think the bastard of a man could've had the <em>brains<em> to evade the police in a murder trial, he didn't really believe the man was responsible for his best friend's dead. But still, the big blonde was itching to nail the man for _something. _Matthias would hunt down the man's friends the following day, he would hunt them down and question them and if there was anything, anything at all that pointed towards the fact that Harris Morison was responsible for Arthur's dead, he would personally _murder _that man. Because Matthias was a man of the law, but he didn't have any patience for child abusers – sexual predators- and you didn't fuck with any of Matthias's special people. Right now, he needed some calm, a chance to forget all the horrible images he had formed into his head. In his time in the force Matthias had been confronted with many horrible things, children were victims so many times and it seriously hurt him so much to think that his beloved friend had been one of those, those children which fate had forever left, who looked at you with big frightened eyes, who could never really have faith in life again. Matthias knew he was being unreasonable, there were so many children who were mistreated, that didn't mean that Arthur was a different case. He should be able to handle this as he handled any other case. Professional, detached, like a good little policemen. But he was still human and this was personal.

The big blonde swallowed his rum in one swing, he had lost count how many he had drunken already. The bartender (short and cute, by the way), accustomed to seeing miserable faces and experienced enough to see when a person needed another drink, promptly handed him another glass. the pitying (but somehow also) stone-cold glance was free of charge, but Matthias expected a steep bill at the end of the night. Well, it was good then that he didn't give a flying fuck about the stupid bill. A movement to his right got his attention and another men sat on the stool next to him. Which was strange, the whole night people had avoided the big blonde man, who looked so furious he could kill. Glancing to the right, Matthias noticed everything was moving and blurry in front of his eyes, he hadn't really realized how drunk he actually was. He could _just _make out shockingly white hair and equally fascinating red eyes, before he gave up and moved to stare miserably at his glass of liquor again. His vision swam too much and he tiredly closed his eyes. For a moment deluding himself that someone would come and pick him up.

"_There you are!" a English voice broke him out of his drunken daze. Matthias pathetically rose his head from where it had been resting on the counter top of the bar. "I've been looking all over for you!"_

_He turned around and could __just __make out that is best friend was standing a few metres behind him. This action proved to be too much, though, for another wave and dizziness came over him. With a groan he returned his head to its previous resting place. "whatta you doin here, Art?" he managed to speak, voice muffled by the hard wood. Matthias's vision was obscured by the table, but he could hear Arthur taking a seat next to him. _

"_I told you, I was looking for you." Arthur snapped, he sounded very irritated. "I got a call from one of your colleagues." The word 'colleagues' was spoken with an extra amount of prissiness and bitterness, making it extremely obvious that this 'colleague' had successfully pissed the blonde of. "He told me what happened and that you were probably out drinking yourself to death. Said that it would be best if I would check on you. Lazy git! Wouldn't even look for you himself."_

_Matthias giggled; same old complaining Arthur. He turned his head a little bit so that the scowling Brit was in his vision. "'probly knew y-you're my best friend. Art." _

_Arthur shot him a nasty look. "Don't suck up to me, I'm upset. It's three in the sodding morning and I just wasted two hours of my night to look for you."_

"_Wha das it matter?" Matthias slurred. "You don' 'ave work tomorrow."_

"_Shut up. You try raising two teenage boys, see how much you need your sleep." Arthur turned to the bartender who was not-so-subtly eyeing a woman a few seats over. "Sir, a beer please." The other man nodded and went to fetch a glass. _

_Matthias grinned in the countertop, before he winked at his friend. "Thought you were tired?"_

"_Shut up." _

_A comfortable silence swept over them as Arthur sipped his beer and Matthias kept lying there, his own glass of scotch forgotten. His intoxicated eyes couldn't help but follow the other's every movement. He noticed that the blonde indeed seemed to be tired, with bags under his eyes and tousled hair. Guilt crept up on Matthias, it was a late hour after all. Sighing, he propped his head on his hand and lifted himself up. Now that he wasn't hanging over the bar, he could really see his friend. Get lost staring at those eyes, those evergreen eyes that seemed to sparkle, even in the dark dirty bar. _

_Arthur noticed his change in position and returned his stare. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if doubting he should talk at all, before the small blonde opened his mouth once again. _

"_Do you want to talk about today?" his voice sounded unsure and weak. Matthias was momentarily struck by the change in character, before he remembered that Arthur didn't like to talk about his work with him. That Arthur had always possessed a certain aversion to the occupation of a policeman. It seemed he never really wanted to hear what Matthias encountered every day; the destroyed families, the raped women, the robbed men. Arthur did seem to respect Matthias and everything he did though, he just seemed to be…__afraid__ of talking about it. He would've guessed it had something to do with Alfred's arrest if he hadn't known that Arthur had been the same way even before that. _

"_No…" Matthias managed to get out and Arthur raised one of his impressive eyebrows. "I'm just…frustrated…"_

"_Because he is free again?" Arthur prodded, still without the familiar steel in his voice. "Because the trial was lost?"_

_Matthias moved his eyes away from Arthur's searching ones and his shoulders slumped. "W-we worked on this case for six months, SIX months, Arthur." The big blonde moved his head into his hands. "And now he is free again, all because of a stupid mistake, all because of me…"_

_Matthias ground his teeth and felt the boiling anger sober him up a bit. He balled his fists and let them fall on the counter with a satisfying bang. "Again free! Free to kill and hurt whoever he wants." His clenched fists started to tremble and from the corner of his eyes he saw several people looking at him warily. "And it's all my FAULT!"_

_Silence met his statement and Matthias didn't dare look at Arthur, because what would he see in those green eyes? Fear? Disgust? Pity? The man had obviously heard everything that had happened that afternoon and evening, or else he wouldn't have thought twice about going out in the middle of the night to find him. _

_A hand came to rest on his cheek and guided his face upwards. Before he could even react, Arthur forehead came to rest on his. Arthur's eyes were closed and Matthias closed his too. This was not a romantic gesture, he knew this, this was purely an consoling one. But it was enough to bring calm to his aching heart. _

_Then a soft voice spoke words he would not ever forget._

"_Find out what you have to do to make it right, and then do it. Don't look back, think about here and now."_

_Matthias took a shuddering breath. "Arthur…?"_

_Whispered words answered. "A very good friend once told me that, when I was in quite a pitch. He said to me; 'Find out what will return the peace within your heart, get it, and never, ever look back.' Solid advice really, but I'm a sentimental fool in regards to looking at the past."_

_Matthias's eyes opened and he noticed that Arthur's were still closed. There was a calm, almost serene expression on his face._

"_But still. The notion that you can get what you want if you just try hard enough has always been thrilling to me. No matter how much of a lie it may be, it still suggest that there's always a chance, it still suggest you can make your own future come true. I'm sure my old friend did not believe one word of his own advice, but just like pretending to believe calmed his heart, it calmed mine to."_

_Green eyes opened to stare into his and a breath-taking smile found the face Matthias adored so. "What I'm meaning to say is this. If you're not happy with something, fix it. Even if it doesn't work out, you have to keep believing it will be okay."_

_Arthur moved away from him, and Matthias could help but move a little forward. "Do not despair, Matthias, do not give up. You'll get this guy, one way or another."_

_Gentle fingers found his cheek again._

"_Just remember to not let it damage your kind heart." _

"Hey guy, you okay?" A voice broke through his subconscious and Matthias realized with a shock that he had fallen asleep at the bar. With a wild jerk of his head he rose, which he did entirely too fast. Afterwards, his head was spinning like mad. "Woah, there!" The same voice spoke again, and two arms prevented him from falling of the stool he was currently sitting on. The same hands steadied him, and the same voice spoke again. This time, Matthias could see the face those arms belonged to.

"Dude! Maybe you should lay down the booze, not everybody has an awesome tolerance with alcohol like me!" Shockingly white hair, so white it momentarily blinded his compromised vision. But the white hair wasn't the most unusual thing about the man's appearance. No, the guy had the most sharp red eyes Matthias had ever seen. They seemed to cut right through him, with a fierce violence. Those were the eyes Matthias had seen a lot when he was on the job.

In the farthest corner of his brain, a little bell of alarm went off. Something about the person's appearance irked him to remember something. But his head seemed to be filled with cotton balls and he couldn't remember clearly why he should be alarmed by seeing the man. He had never seen the man, right?

"Dude, if you keep staring at me like that I'm going to get the wrong idea." The man spoke with amusement littering his voice. "Totally not into that."

"Wha-" It took a moment for Matthias to process those words. "No! Buddy, I'm not…like _that_…" (yes he was, kind of, gender never really mattered to him)

"Dude, wouldn't blame ya," The man spoke again and Matthias was beginning to find him obnoxious. "I would totally wanna get with this too." He gestured to his (slim but athletic) body.

Matthias lay his head on the table, he was not in the mood for some crazy man with a slight German accent (he just realized) praising himself. The headache was already forming behind his temples and he was once again reminded why he _shouldn't drink ever again_.

"Rough day?" The self-proclaimed awesome man asked him.

Matthias groaned again. "Don't you have somebody else to bother?" He tried, not really giving a damn that that was an incredibly rude thing to say. Then again, even when he was sober he generally didn't really care about that.

"Nope, my companions are mad at me for ditching them earlier today and now Luddy has retired to the bathroom with his incredibly adorable husband, they've been in there for more than thirty minutes, so I really don't want to go look for them. Yanno?"

"…Ugh…"

"I know! And you seemed like you could use some company." The man grinned. "Nikolas!" The barman turned to the obnoxious guy and raised an eyebrow.

"…Yes?"

"Another beer for me and the gentleman! Put it on my tap!" Hadn't the stranger just told him he should 'lay down the booze'?

The bartender –Nikolas, apparently- looked at him with could only be described as pure annoyance. "…No."

Red-eye-man's expression changed from happy-go-lucky to confused. "What? Why not?"

"Have you forgotten how steep your tap is? I'm only accepting cash from you. Just like how you paid for your last beer."

"…" His drinking companion seemed to be at a loss of words. "…Nikolas…"

"Besides, your big companion seemed to have had enough, don't you think?" Nikolas waved a unimpressed hand at Matthias. Who tried to protest, but only a groan came forth. His head was _so heavy_ and his eyelids were dropping and dropping. Maybe the cute bartender was right; maybe drinking another was not the best idea.

He could hear the two people continue to argue, but wasn't really paying attention to those two. His head was dropped again, and he was on the verge of sleep, only little straps of conversation slipping through his intoxicated mind.

"-don't tell me something I already-"

"-Nikolas! Nikolas! Nikolas!-"

"-Shut up, there is a policy-"

"-Please! Please! Sweet, handsome, awesome-"

"-Stop talking, I swear to god-"

"- LukasLukasLukas, GAH! Damn it! That HURT!-"

A few moments later a glass of water was placed before him, he guessed by white-hair man. He blurrily blinked at the glass, before looking next to him, where the other was unhappily eying his own glass.

"What happened to the beer?" Matthias questioned.

The slender man gave him a grimace. "Nikolas is hard-core man, this is all I got from him." He zipped his drink. "Asshole."

Matthias once again turned to his drink, shrugged and drank it in one long tug, before setting it on the bar again with a loud tap. If it had been vodka instead of water he wouldn't have tasted the difference, luckily it had been water.

Obnoxious man laughed. "Had a tough day, didn't ya?"

Matthias vaguely nodded. "You got no idea… Fucking awful day. Long one too."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"No."

"Aaaah, dude, I've got all the time in the world! My day was extremely unawesome too! And I can't even drown my sorrows away!"

Matthias raised his eyebrows. "I doubt your day was a bad as mine."

"Really? I got my ass kicked today, _twice_. I had to meet with the most intimidating and nerve racking person on the planet who I swore I would never meet again AND I found out that my ex was going to get remarried. Top that!"

If Matthias had been sober, he wouldn't have responded. He would've just ignored the obnoxious person and gotten his merry way. But he was very far from being sober, and just this one time he could use a listening ear. A listening ear that wasn't attached to a person ten years his junior. So even though all his police senses were kicking his ass for giving in, Matthias mouth opened and he started talking. First he told the other about how much he had cared for his best friend and how lost he was now that he was gone, after that he told the stranger about the blonde's dead and the unfairness of it all. He told him about his difficult job of taking care of two grieving teenagers, he told him of their trip to London and the horrible things they had learned. He told him about Harris Morrison and Elizabeth Grey, about Cecille and Armound Bonnefoy, about love and hate and everything in between.

Eventually, just before he fell into a deep sleep from which he would wake only the following day, he told the sociable stranger about the boy with the greenest eyes he had ever seen and the smile that could pull him from the deepest depths known to men.

The man with the white hair and piercing red eyes continued to smile, only agreeing that green was an awesome colour for eyes (though red was still the awesomest colour to have). His eyes twinkled, no doubt remembering his own special someone. In his drunken mind, Matthias could still see the initials doodled on the man's napkin; E.H.

Yes, was Matthias last thought as he drifted off, the fake smile the other man had worn fresh in his face, the world truly was a cruel place, for it gave you tremendous love, only to rip it away when you least expected it.

The following morning Matthias woke up in his hotel room, with a pounding headache, a file taste in his mouth and two teens eying him disapprovingly.

A small card in his pocket.

_Gilbert Beildschmidt._

_Officer at the eastern district police centre._

_-Matthias, come by the office soon; I think I'll be able to help you._

_Stay Awesome.-_

* * *

><p>Letters to you.<p>

Frog,

Everything here is fine. Elizabeth is very good company, although it's a little awkward that she had the same name as… you know, _her_. Gilbert is insufferable, loud and annoying. He keeps demanding that he is the boss because he had found the building first. He wanted to name it too, but came no further than 'the abandoned building'.

Financially, we manage, though I think you can imagine that we aren't really gentlemen about it. We should take what we get, Gilbert instructed us. Off course, he and Elizabeth have been doing this sort of thing longer than I have.

How is your mother? You aren't smothering her too much are you? I swear if I would have a son like you I would be ill too.

See you soon,

Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

><p>I had a lot of trouble with this one and I think it shows in the writing as well in the number of words. I hope it was good enough for you guys...<p>

Next time; Gilbert comes fully into the picture! With special flashbacks concerning Hungary/Elizabeth and a whole lot of Awesome!Gilbert.

Care to tell me how this chapter was? The next will be a little lighter, but will contain a LOT of new information. I had to write this chapter to have that transition. Don't worry! The next chapter will not be taking as long to update as this one. How I know this? Simple! It is almost finished.

Any remarks? Good? Bad? Please review! They really are the kick-me-up I need once in a while.


	10. Ludwig and Gilbert

I'm so sorryyyy, its been such a long time!

Well, without further delay, here is the new chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 Gilbert and Ludwig<strong>

"Sir, you don't have the right authorisation-" the bewildered policeman-obviously a rookie- began before Matthias enraged voice tore the sentence apart.

"I don't fucking care." He growled, "I want answers. I want you to check Harris Morrison's alibi for this date and I want a goddamn explanation for the downright horrible job you people have been doing!"

"Sir, I don't follow, please-"

"And if I don't get those things this fucking minute there's going to be someone seriously hurt!" Matthias had tried to control his temper, he really had. If only because Alfred and Matthew were with him. But they were in the police station that held authority over downhill street and many other districts in the area. The one police station that had been so fucking incompetent and corrupt in Arthur's younger years. He really couldn't be expected to be nice to these people, they were the very thing he despised the most; policemen took an _oath, _they were there to _protect _the ones that needed it, not ignore them. He had no patience left, not anymore. Luckily, both Alfred and Matthew didn't seem upset that he was getting so riled up, they both were wearing twin looks of approvement.

"Is there a problem here?" The rookie policeman seemed faint with relief when another man came up to them, alerted by the racket Matthias was making. This man was obviously much higher in rang and had the smug face to prove it. Little bastard, Matthias mused, in _his _squad that guy wouldn't even be fit to be assigned traffic duty. Matthias whirled around and faced the other, jabbing his finger in the other man's chest. "Yes, there is a problem." He growled. "I want to know what kind of shitjob this station has been doing!"

The man raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me! I said that I demand to know-"

"Sir you are making a scene in the middle of the police station, I would advise you to calm down, or else I would have to ask you to leave."

"We ain't leaving." Alfred spoke up. "We need information!"

Two big man joined the smug looking one. The man smirked in a way that was really, really blood-boiling annoying. "then I'm afraid my associates will be forced to remove you."

The man advanced on them and Matthias grabbed a hold of his last hope.

"I want to speak with Gilbert Beildschmidt!" He yelled, showing all the business card.

* * *

><p><em>His step brother had determent eyes. This was the first thing Gilbert noticed about Eli, the second was his fierce nature and the third was his booming confident laugh.<em>

"_Gilbert, this is Eli, your step brother." His step father had said. _

_It wasn't until years later that Gilbert found out that Eli was a girl and that her mother had named her Elizabeth. _

_Elizabeth was a girl._

_No matter that she was forced into boy's clothing, no matter that her hair was chopped short, no matter what her father wished her to be._

_And if Gilbert was honest… Although he would never tell a soul, he thought Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen._

_She was never a boy, no matter what that awful man claimed. Nor was she ever a whore, no matter what society labelled her to be. To him, Elizabeth was always and would always be a true lady._

"Sir?"

Gilbert was shaken out of his thoughts as an underling found his way into his office. His red eyes assessed the guy's rumpled clothes and rather terrified expression. The guy had just been placed under his care and the strain seemed already too much for the poor guy, inwardly Gilbert smirked, he certainly wasn't a very lenient mentor. Not that his own boss was any less strict, there wasn't a week when Gilbert wasn't reprimanded. He smirked, he was just awesome like that.

"What's up rookie?"

"There are some…_people_ here to see you…" The man uncertainly answered, probably wondering if it was smart to allow those 'people' inside the office. Gilbert, on the other hand, wasn't uncertain at all. It seemed that the big blonde had found his little present in his coat and things were finally stepping up. A smile found his face, _finally _he would be able to make some goddamn difference.

"Let them in."

The rookie nodded weakly and went to collect the chaotic party.

While waiting for the three men to arrive Gilbert smoothed his uniform and straightened in his chair. His hand unconsciously moved over his collar and the pin that rested there. He looked just like a good wholesome police officer like this, if you overlooked the way his red eyes twinkled with mirth and his shocking white hair made him look more like a delinquent than a man of the law.

Not even a minute later his office door was opened again and three people walked in, they seemed rather upset but were also obviously relieved that they had been allowed in his office. Gilbert surveyed them carefully, pleased to see that they were unharmed and seemed to be in good health. After all, you never knew what would happen when Ivan had set his sights on someone. Arthur would surely haunt him forever if something happened to them under his watch, and you really didn't want an angry ghost Arthur on your case.

Gilbert grinned. "Welcome." Then he made a gesture to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please," He elaborated. "Sit down."

All three did, but were also rather red in the face. It seemed that they had a very lively morning, Gilbert could appreciate that. The young blonde with the blue eyes –Alfred he remembered- spoke up. "Who the heck are you anyway?"

Gilbert grinned. "Excellent question, kid, you three are probably wondering what the fuck is going on."

Matthias nodded. "We are, how do you know us? And why did you give me your card? What do you even want?"

Gilbert's grin broadened. "I want to help you guys of course!" He said. "I gave you my card because I knew that it would lead you awesome gentleman to me, and for the first question; my name is Gilbert Bleidschmidt."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You want to help us? Why?"

"Yeah I should probably elaborate, it is very nice to meet you, little brothers and best friend of Arthur Kirkland! I am Gilbert, former street rat and good friend of our dearest Arthur, who has passed so recently."

He gave them all his trademark wink.

"And I would very well like to help you catch whoever killed the fierce Briton. Please allow me to help you in your quest to uncover the truth."

Alfred and Matthias gaped, Matthew did not react in any way.

"W-w-wait…" Alfred chocked. "Why do you sound so familiar? Why does your name sound so familiar?"

"It's because h-h-he c-came to our house once, Alfred. R-r-remember?" Matthew spoke, an odd look in his face. "He w-wanted Arthur to leave with him, t-t-they had a-a f-fight."

"Yeah," Gilbert scratched the back of his head. "Sorry about that, I was going through some rough stuff. Me and Artie were otherwise on good terms, don't you worry!"

Matthias frowned. "You knew him when he was still living in London?"

"Yep, sure did. We hanged for a few years together with some other people. Eventually it all went to hell with Francis dying and Arthur getting picked up by the police and a whole lot of other shit, but for a while, we were a very close knit group. Street rats, as we liked to call ourselves."

Matthias eyes widened in realisation, how had he not connected the dots? "You are the boy Arthur's social worker saw that day! You are the one that checked up on him while he was in foster care!"

Gilbert blinked. "She knew about that? Well, she _was_ awesome... Yep, I visited Artie now and again, we made small talk, I gave him awesome time with me, he gave me money he nicked from his foster family. Good times."

"He _stole _from his foster family?" Alfred spoke, a little taken aback.

"Yep, he sure did. Artie always had a gift for stealing money. Great pickpocket that guy."

"_Pickpocket?_" Alfred again.

Matthias sighed before speaking. "So you knew Arthur? How?"

Gilbert relaxed in his chair, swinging his feet on his desk. He leaned back a little, nostalgia lighting his face. "I met Arthur the same day I met Francis. I was fifteen at the time and I lived with my steph-sister in an building that has now long since been demolished. It was abandoned, so nobody had any claims about us moving in."

Alfred frowned. "You were homeless? That's horrible…"

Gilbert barked a little in laughter. "We were all homeless kid, everyone in our group. Well except for Francis, but he was always the exception on every rule imaginable. Elizabeth and I were the first ones to inhabit that place, we had ran away from her father and my step father, and lived on the streets of London. We met them six months later. They seemed to be in distress and Elizabeth offered them a place to stay, Arthur did not have a place to return to, so he stayed."

"What about Francis?" Alfred questioned.

"Francis had parents and a home. He went to a school every day and was receiving education. Still, he came by every day to visit us. He was a part of our group, even if he could not completely understand our world. He took textbooks and assignments with him, he was a great teacher really." Gilbert's eyes softened. "If he wouldn't have died, I bet that he would have been a great teacher."

Matthias nodded. "So you took care of each other…"

"Yeah, we did."

_There were two boys there. Both sitting on their knees in the ruined living room of their little estate. Both Gilbert and Elizabeth looked on in quiet apprehension. Who were they? They didn't seem dangerous, both younger than them and much to engrossed in each other to have come here to look for the girl and the boy. After a shared look and without any noise, both crept forward, curious who the two blondes were. They didn't hide themselves, but that did not matter, both boys did not seem to notice them._

_One was noticeably taller than the other, even evident while they were both sitting on their knees. The taller one had nice long hair that seemed well-cared for, while the shorter blonde's hair was shaggy and ill-kept. The taller blonde seemed to possess a sort of grace not often found in teenaged boys and although he seemed to be scared, he had a certain confident air around him. The other was different, Gilbert thought about himself when he looked at the short one. The boy's shoulders were slumped, although the weight of the world took residence there, there was not much confidence in the shaggy-haired one's gaze, but instead a fierceness that told both Gilbert and Elizabeth that this was not somebody you could easily break. _

_Both boys to have just arrived in the building that was Eli's and Gilbert's home. They were both panting and wet, probably because of the raging storm that was wreaking havoc outside. They were looking at each other, both tired and drained. _

_The tall one raised his hand and placed it on the shorter ones neck, seeming to trace something there. When Gilbert squinted and concentrated his eyes on that piece of pale neck, he realised with a sickening feeling in his stomach that there were bruises there; strangulation marks. _

"_Are you all right?" The words were whispered and soft. Gilbert was surprised such a voice could come from such a prideful creature, but he guessed they were witnessing a very intimate moment between the two. _

_The shorter blonde was trembling, from cold or emotion, Gilbert did not know. But the boy raised his hand too and placed it on the other's. After that he seemed to slump into the other, head resting on the concerned boy's shoulder. The next words were whispered too, this time by the wounded blonde._

"_She betrayed me, Francis."_

_The one named Francis gave a start, obviously shocked by what he had heard. _

"_W-what?" The blonde stammered. "Arthur, what do you mean?"_

_There was a moment of silence, before Arthur lifted his head and once again made eye contact. Maybe he found compassion or courage in those eyes, because moments later he continued. _

"_She made her choice." It was a statement. "And she choose him."_

_Gilbert did not know what was going on, but he guessed they weren't talking about a crush choosing someone else over the blonde. The whispered words, the silence, this was much, much more serious than that. _

"_I can't go back." The noises from the storm outside almost blew the whispered words away. "I can't go with you. And I don't know where William is…"_

_Francis's breath seemed to still, before a chocked sob escaped his mouth and he shot forward to encase his friend in a desperate embrace. He did not seem to know what to say, Gilbert guessed, so he remained silent. _

"_Where am I going to go?" _

_So he was like them. No home, no family, nowhere to go. He was like them, a street rat, tossed away from civil society like garbage. He was like them, with the bruised marks on his skin and in his heart. Gilbert clenched his fists, together with his teeth. The word was never fair, was it?_

_Elizabeth brushed past him, walking toward the two boys huddled on the ground. She stepped up to them and they noticed the brown-haired girl immediately._

"_If you have nowhere to go," She started, with the kindness in her voice that never seemed to wither. "Then why don't you stay with us?"_

_That day marked the end of a period, a period where it was always just the two of them against the word. Arthur and Francis joined them in their fight against the world. They joined them with their fights and arguments, with Francis's nagging and Arthur's outbursts, with insults, jokes, burned food and wandering hands. Sometimes it was hard to imagine what Elizabeth and Gilbert had seen upon first meeting the two other boys; it was hard to visualize the same compassion and the level of caring when Francis was hurling Arthur through the room or when Arthur broke a vase atop of Francis's head. But the caring had been genuine and still very much there, although the two did not show it openly. Sort of like Elizabeth and him, if he was honest with himself._

_They lived together, Francis joining them as often as he could since he still had a home to return to, they lived together and it worked. And little by little, others joined them, and they became a family of their own._

_A family of misfits, of rejects, but a family nonetheless._

"First came Arthur and Francis. Then Lukas and his little child of a brother, next came Toris, Berwald and Tino. The last to join us was a Russian boy named Ivan, who was pretty screwed in the head, by the way. We never talked about how we came to be homeless, we never talked about our pasts. So I don't know anything about that, but I can tell you how your brother lived. He was a good guy really, but we were all in a shitty situation and we needed to survive."

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

"We weren't angels, we weren't always fair, but we tried to not lower ourselves to much to the label society had put on us. We stole, yes and we participated in illegal practices. Which I will keep vague, because, yeah, 'm now an officer. But we did it all to survive."

"Nobody helped you guys?" Alfred's look was heart breaking. "You were all alone?"

Gilbert smiled. "No, there was one man. His name was Roma, he owned a community centre near our building. We were always welcome to come there and forget about our troubles. It was a really nice place, and we often went there, especially in the winter, when it became unbearably cold in our building."

"Wait, a community centre?" Alfred questioned. "Didn't they know you were in trouble?"

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, Roma knew our situation, but he also knew that we wouldn't accept anyone messing in our life. We all dreaded getting picked up and placed in a foster family, some of us had found out first-hand what that could entail." A somewhat dark look replaced Gilbert's cheerful one. "We were fine on our own. Roma understood that we would leave if he tried something like that, he knew that accepting us without question was the most he could do for us. So he did."

Gilbert grinned. "But I'm sure you three didn't come all the way here to hear me ramble on about some old geezer from a long time ago. A little birdie told me you boys were trying to find out who is responsible for killing our mutual friend, and I would very well like to help you."

Alfred smiled. "Dude, that's awesome! You can tell us all about Artie too!" he excitedly turned to Matthias. "What do you think Matthias?"

The man frowned. "Well… It would be a great help…" He nervously cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Gilbert, but the problem is… We think someone close to him did this, and well…"

Alfred cringed, eyes shooting to Gilbert. He had obviously not thought about that possibility. Matthew's stare became intense, like he was seeing something about Gilbert that the other two weren't seeing. Gilbert himself didn't seem that taken aback by Matthias's words.

"Don't worry, big blonde," Gilbert winked, sliding a note of paper towards Matthias. "If you don't trust me yet, go to this place, the people there'll give you my alibi." Matthias picked up the note, an address adorned it. "Where is this?"

"It's my brother's place, the day Arthur died, we were celebrating his engagement to his cute Italian boyfriend. I was there, they will be able to confirm everything."

Gilbert fixed him with a stare. "When I have earned your trust… Believe me, I can help you find the son of a bitch who killed him. The past is a dark place, and I have my share of suspects. When you'll be ready to accept my help, come by this place again. Or better yet, I'll go to my brother's house."

Matthias nodded and stood up. "Come on boys, let's go." He turned, and with a little nod towards Gilbert, disappeared through the door, closely followed by a grinning Alfred. Matthew took a little longer, and when he neared the door, he hesitated, before turning towards Gilbert once again. Violet eyes were twinkling with an unreadable emotion. His hand resting on the doorknob, Matthew held his gaze, and Gilbert could do nothing else but stare back. Until now, Gilbert had been able to ignore the boy, but now…

"Why are you doing this?" The stutter from before seemed to be gone, steel had replaced it.

Gilbert wasn't smiling anymore. "You know why." He answered, trying to sound gentle. "I'm just trying to find the person who killed your brother."

Matthew's answer was swift. "He wouldn't have wanted your help." His hand was clenching around the doorknob, and Gilbert's own were in fists.

"I know." He told Arthur's perceptive little brother. "But it's the least I could do."

Matthew opened the door and left, but not before sending one last look towards Gilbert. With a shock the albino recognized the look.

Hate.

That boy hated him.

* * *

><p>Alfred looked dully out of the car window while Matthias was waving through the traffic, they had decided to check the cool guy's alibi, and at first Alfred had been really, really excited. Since they were finally getting, really getting, somewhere. Plus, the guy had offered his services, and if he had lived with Arthur for a while like he claimed, he must have lots of stories about his brother. So yeah, he had been excited at first, but London traffic really was the third circle of hell, and they really should've gone with the tube, because <em>snails <em>were passing themat the speed they were going. Sighing, his chin on his hand, Alfred watched the sights go by. After a few seconds, that got boring too, so he decided he needed someone to distract him.

"…Mattie…" he whined. Flopping himself all over his twin, making himself pretty damn comfortable.

Mattie gave him an annoyed stare, clearly knowing that Alfred was in one of his moods. "What is it Alfred?"

"I'm boooored." Alfred gave Matthew to most adorable look ever, but his twin seemed unaffected, which sucked major balls.

"So?"

"Entertain me!"

"No, find something else to do." Matthew voice was definitely annoyed now, and it seemed a little strained too.

"But Mattheeeeeeew…"

"God, Alfred," Matthew frowned. "Don't be such an insufferable baby, grow up will you?"

Alfred blinked, taken aback by Matthew's vicious answer. The other boy hadn't made such comments since they had left for Londen. The last time…

"_Matthew you are such a killjoy and a loner, you fucking betrayed me!"_

"_Do you know what you are Alfred?" Soft voice, sneering undertone. "You are the most dim-witted, the most stupid and dumb person I have ever met."_

It had been a big fight, just before Alfred had found Arthur's letter and they had decided to leave. Alfred had been mean, Matthew had been mean, and awful words had been said. In the same tone Matthew was using now, but… Alfred wasn't doing anything _really _wrong, was he?

Alfred frowned, looking up at his brother's face where it rested on Matthew's lap.

"You okay, Mattie?"

A small smile, a soft sigh and the pleasant and non-hostile voice was back on his brothers lips. "Yes, Alfred, just a little tired. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

In the front seat, Matthias was cursing at the traffic, and all was well. They arrived twenty minutes later, arrived at a modest house with a little garden and a white fence. A neighbourhood that reminded Alfred of his own, with playing children en laughing mothers. Matthias turned in his chair and regarded them fondly, his mood had somewhat shifted it seemed, but Alfred knew that below the surface Matthias was still battshit angry.

"It seems we've arrived, boys." He pointed to a nice house at the end of the street, it was a rather small house, especially considering it was surrounded by larger houses, but the whole building just seemed to scream happiness and peace. It seemed… homey, Alfred decidedly. A little like their house in the United States had always been. Alfred liked it, after a quick little glance towards his brother, Alfred found that Matthew seemed to like it too. Matthew caught his gaze and gave him a smile, his mood from before seemed to have vanished.

* * *

><p>Ludwig liked to think he was a patient man, he liked to think he was reasonable too and didn't succumb to burst of anger frequently or hurriedly. But that belief was often questioned by the fact that the two most important people in his life caused him ridiculous amounts of stress, sometimes it was almost as if they were frustrating him on purpose. Well, of course he knew that his husband didn't really annoy andor worry him on purpose _and _of course he also knew that his brother very consciously _was_ angering and annoying him for the bastard's own amusement. Ludwig liked a stable environment, Ludwig liked peace, Ludwig appreciated calm and quiet and planned things.

Ludwig did not appreciate coming home from work to find his husband in tears and three complete strangers in his house. No sir, he did not appreciate that, even less so when he found out those three strangers had been send by his troublemaking brother. Now, Ludwig loved his brother a whole lot, but sometimes he would really like to choke his sibling to death. Especially when said sibling had invited the past back into their lives, especially when that past was questioning them and demanding all sorts of answers while they were still under _his _roof.

His past hadn't been a bad one, though, his adopted parents had been angels, he had received an good education and found the love of his life very early on. But his own past wasn't what frightened him really, his brother's past did. Gilbert had been far less lucky in life, their lives had taken two very different roads after they had been separated in the orphanage, both going home to another family, not to see each other again for a long time.

But he was getting of the subject again, what mattered was this; he came home from a good day of work, stepped into the living room and found three strangers on the couch, and a sobbing Feliciano on the armchair. Granted, the three man did look a little sheepish, but Ludwig was far too confused and angry to notice that, especially when he found himself with a handful of wailing Italian a moment later.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

A teenager with blonde hair, glasses, blue eyes and a slightly guilty look on his face started talking. "Ehm, I don't know… One moment he is happily talking to us and the next…" he gestured weakly towards the man who was now wailing a little louder, and gripping his jacket which had become now damp with water and something green Ludwig didn't want to think about.

Ludwig disentangled the sobbing mess of a person from himself. "Feli…?"

Eyes filled with water looked back at him, before they closed, and his husband mouth opened.

"It…is…s-so…SAD!" Feli wailed, before turning and embracing the two teens in a crushing hug. "O-orphans!" He made a grab for the big burly guy next to them but the guy managed to dodge. "L-lost love! Why Ludwig?" Feli turned to him again. "Why is it all so sad?"

Ludwig sighed and looked towards the blonde man with the spikey hair.

The man shrugged his shoulders and send him an apogelic grin.

"Gilbert sent us."

Yes, sometimes Ludwig really wanted to strangle his brother.

A long, _long _hour passed before everything was calm(er) and everyone was sitting at their dinner table, Ludwig visibly annoyed and Feliciano sniffing now and again.

"So, let's get this straight, you're Arthur Kirkland's brothers?" The two boys (Alfred and Matthew although he had trouble remembering who was which) nodded simultaneously, they seemed to be a little intimidated… Hah good. "And you are…?"

Matthias (as he had already introduced himself) grinned. "Arthur's best friend, at your service." He finished his sentence with a determent nod and a questionable wink.

Ludwig nodded back, while his hand found Feli's knee under the table. He did not want the other to break down again. "So you want to know about Arthur then? And Gilbert's whereabouts on the night of the murder?" Ludwig frowned. "You do know that I am his brother right? What is to say I am not lying?"

Matthias frowned. "Well, we don't act-"

"Gilbert was celebrating with us! Our engagement party, me and Ludwig's!" Feli spoke up. "It was such a fun party, wasn't it Luddy? Everyone was really happy and we danced the whole night long." Feli smiled, but tears were in the corners of his eyes. "The following day we heard the news, we were so sad… Gilbert _loved _Arthur like a brother! Tell him Luddy, Gilbert would've never hurt his friend."

Ludwig sighed. "Yes my brother was with us that day, the whole day." He stood up and walked towards the cabinet, where he opened the second to top drawer and pulled two folders out. "I figured I should hold on to this when I heard of Arthur's passing, my brother had been in America for a while before Arthur's murder, but he came back for us that day. This is his plane ticket." He lay it before the three men. "And a picture of the party." The picture was lain before the men too, on it a grinning Gilbert with confetti in his hair, holding his bigger brother in a headlock and holding Feliciano's hand as if he was a precious doll.

Matthis nodded, eyes glued to the picture. Alfred (Ludwig assumed) was looking at the picture too, a look of relieve on his face, the other boy, Matthew, his gaze was intensely locked on the plane ticket.

Matthias looked up at him again. "You saved these documents?"

Ludwig nodded. "Yes, we… we thought it was best… evidence that Gilbert had been here."

"Yet you have it even now…" Matthias frowned. "What made you so worried that you would need it again, what made you so spooked? They classified Arthur's dead as a burglary gone wrong, nothing indicated that they had to search beyond the ocean for Gilbert."

Ludwig froze in his seat, what? Burglary gone wrong? But that doesn't sound right… Feli shifted in his seat.

"But we got questioned." Feli told them. "We got a call and they questioned us about Gilberts whereabouts that day."

_Feliciano was dozing and leaning against his fiancé. They were on the couch and the movie seemed like nice music in the background. His eyelids were so heavy and he could almost feel the clutches of sleep gripping him and carrying him away to a sweet dream. He snuggled closer, so warm…_

_He awoke from the phone, it's ringing cutting through his dreamy haze like a sharp knife, he bolted upright feeling a panic he could not quite explain… except that he could, not even a week ago the ringing of the phone had meant a devastating loss. Now Feliciano carried a green ribbon with him to the graveyard every time he went to visit. He could feel Ludwig rouse from his sleep too, and Feliciano quietly disentangled himself from his love. He stood from the couch and he could feel Ludwig starting to do the same._

"_Stay." Feliciano smiled. "I'll get it."_

"_Just let it ring." The man behind him grumbled, Feliciano moved anyway._

_He grabbed the phone and moved it towards his ear._

"_Feliciano speaking."_

_There was rustling on the other side of the line, and heavy breathing, the kind of breathing people have when they run a long time and are exhausted._

"_Hello?" Feliciano tried again. "Who is this?"_

"_This…" The voice hesitated and behind Feliciano Ludwig stood up. "This is the police department, I have a few questions for one Gilbert Beildsmidt."_

"_Police department? Uhm… Gilbert isn't here right now…"_

"The person asked me about Gilbert whereabouts just like you did, I answered him… then he hung up."

"Did he ask anything else?" Matthias questioned the man.

"No… no he didn't… Well, he did sound so…"

"_So he was with you the whole day?" the voice sounded wrong and tight and for a moment Feliciano thought he heard something in the voice he identified as grief._

"Well… he sounded really sad…"

Matthias frowned and the boy named Alfred looked his way. "What is it Matthias?"

"Well…" Matthias began. "Gilbert Beildsmidt was never part of the investigation, up until now I did not know he had been in America before Arthur's murder… nobody in the department told me this, nobody talked about this, it wasn't in any file. We looked at every possibility in America itself, but we looked at none here. We did not search out people in England, we did not question them, we did not know them. There is a reason why I started my own investigation by coming here, it was because nobody in America bothered to look in this place, even less question people."

Ludwig frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Well… It seems like someone else is on the hunt too."

Matthew looked up. "W-what?"

"Someone else but us is looking for Arthur's killer and has decided to take matters into their own hands."

* * *

><p>Gilbert arrived at his brother's home late in the evening. He had chosen the time he went back nicely, he could wait until the following day for Ludwig to chew him out. When he returned, Matthias was still up. Gilbert nodded to him and got a nod back, which probably meant the man and the boys didn't suspect him anymore. Gilbert grabbed some beers and made himself comfortable next to the other man. He handed him a beer.<p>

"So you trust me now?"

"Sure." Matthias nodded. "I trust you as far as I can throw you."

Gilbert smirked. "And why is that?"

"I don't know… something about you just don't quite add up… But I trust you want to find Arthur's killer, and I trust you were his friend."

"Do you trust me to be innocent in his murder."

"… After the way Feliciano defended you, I trust that you cared about him, I trust you know a lot more about him than I do, I trust that you would've never have hurt him."

Gilbert felt his eyes sparkle, and his beers tasted better than it had tasted in a while. He hefted his glass. "To a productive partnership."

Matthias smirked and clanked their glasses together. "To getting the asshole who took our friend away from us."

Gilbert nodded and his smirk fell from his face, he looked towards the ceiling, where the people he cared the most about were sleeping peacefully.

"Yeah," He nodded. "I'll drink to that…"

The boys had gone to bed, so had his brother and brother-in-law. That left Matthias and Gilbert alone in the empty living room, both content with sipping their beer. There was a peaceful silence between them, and Gilbert confessed to himself that he rather liked the big blonde, and that he would have no problem working with him from here on out. He could feel the feeling was mutual, that Alfred and Matthias trusted him too, if he was happy or sad with this fact he did not know. Because at the end of the day, he did report back to Ivan.

Ivan would be relieved and Gilbert would finally have free reign. Gilbert knew Ivan suspected those people, but he knew that they couldn't have done it. Still it wouldn't hurt to let Ivan be on the wrong trail for a while, that way he wouldn't bother Gilbert in his own investigation of Arthur's murder. Though Gilbert wasn't stupid, Ivan was always well informed, chances were that Ivan was simply testing him, in what he did not know. Chances were that Ivan had his own agenda to play, nobody ever knew what the Russian was thinking, not even Toris knew all the secrets that surrounded the Russian. Gilbert knew very well, whenever Ivan was concerned it meant danger, and he was pretty sure Arthur wouldn't have approved him getting his brothers in this kind of situation. Though, Matthias seemed capable of protecting them, Gilbert mused, just like Alfred and Matthew seemed pretty capable of protecting themselves. Though they had lost a lot already, emotionally, they all seemed damaged.

"Just so you know, if you get those boys in any danger, I'll rip you apart."

Gilbert glanced at Matthias.

Hah.

Unrequited love, a terrible, terrible thing.

"You know," Gilbert started, questioning if he was in the right to tell the other this. "The last time I was in England, Arthur talked about you…"

Matthias perked up, eyes shining in curiosity. "He did? What… what did you two talk about?"

"We talked about you trying to kiss him, we talked about the fight right after."

Sadness blossomed in Matthias's eyes and his shoulders slumped down again. "Oh."

Gilbert glanced at him. "Yes… It seems like you were in love and he rejected you. Then came your anger. Arthur did not care to elaborate." He paused for a moment. "It is a painful thing, no? To love someone when they don't love you back? A painful, terrible thing."

"Yes it is." Matthias admitted. "I always knew that I couldn't have him, he always placed such a barrier between me and him, but I did not stop hoping. Then… that one night… I just got carried away…"

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, you did. He said you kissed him and wouldn't let go, he said that it took you a moment to collect your mind. He said it wasn't a pleasant moment." His words had turned sharp and bitter, he couldn't hide it any longer.

Matthias looked at him, obviously surprised at his vicious words. "Why do you want to know this? It doesn't concer-"

"You have an alibi for the day Arthur was killed, a solid one too. But I can't help but notice you did have a pretty good motive."

"You bastard, are you seriously accu-"

"I gave you room to accuse me, and now I am questioning you." He words were sharp and precise, his face was hard. Silence reigned, and Matthias wouldn't look at him.

"I was drunk." He began. "We just came back from the bar. We were both unsteady and the boys were sound asleep in their beds. I went inside the house with him, we were leaning on each other and we lost balance. I was on top of him and I took advantage of that."

"I see, the kiss." Gilbert nodded. "And then?"

"By the time I noticed his struggling my hand was already under his shirt. I was frozen, shocked that I had gone as far as to frighten my best friend. He noticed my stilling and he-"

"Kicked you in the balls."

"Ha, yeah he did. And a good slap in the face." He sighed. "I was rejected again, and it hurt. So I got angry, screamed in his face that he was just playing me, that he enjoyed playing with me. I came to my senses when I saw his face, but then he started screaming, I had never seen him scream in that way before. He told me to leave, he told me I was a bastard, and he that he'll never forgive me for doing something so forceful."

Gilbert snorted. "That sure sounds like him…"

"I apologized later." Matthias continued. "He accepted my apology, but he was more careful around me after that. Like… like the barrier that had always existed between us had been restored to his full strength, after years of me trying to break through it. Arthur… Was he always that closed off? Even the boys know nothing about his childhood…"

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded. "That's Artie, somewhat closed off. There were but a few people he really, truly trusted and opened up too. I'm not surprised he kept you all in the dark about his past, after all, some things are better buried, don't you think?"

"He could've trusted me!"

"Why? What makes you so special? Because you loved him? I'm sorry to say this to you Matthias, but Arthur would've never been able to fully accept your help, or love you for that matter. There has only been one person who Arthur loved and trusted with all his heart."

Matthias stared at his hands. "And he died."

Gilbert nodded. "Yes, he did…"

"…But that doesn't change the fact that Arthur loved him."

_Gilbert's eyes followed Ivan's every move while the Russian boy carefully penned down the specific locations he would be visiting that night. Where he would receive the stuff and where it was needed to be dropped off. Gilbert wasn't particularly nervous, the last few had gone without a hitch, but he knew that he had to be careful. Especially since the new agent in charge of their neighbourhood seemed to be overly suspicious of everything they did. Toris was seated on the floor, a few steps behind Ivan, he was quietly nursing the sick dog he had found earlier that afternoon, and the poor animal would most likely not survive the night. The brunette seemed entirely focused on his task, but Gilbert could see him listening to every word they said. That wasn't really a problem; none of them – the outcasts of the abandoned building- had any secret they wanted to hide, they were all perfectly aware how all came to earn money. Still, Toris being there, the dog moaning silently every few seconds, it made him anxious and uncomfortable. He had closed the door firmly upon entering, the room where they were was the only one that still had one, mostly because he did not want to bother Elizabeth with this meeting, who was in the living room and seemed pissed with him for going into such a shady business. He had laughed at her and told her that she was a fucking hypocrite, which she most certainly was. _

_Ivan looked up from his scribbling and waved him closer, a request which Gilbert obeyed. Ivan underlined one name on the sheet and his gaze was serious when it connected with Gilbert's._

"_This man is dangerous, da?" Ivan spoke. "He likes to play games, do not confront him. Just take the product and go." _

_Gilbert nodded, he trusted Ivan to know what he was saying. Though he often wondered what kind of screwed up childhood the other must've had to know these kind of things. Though he never asked, the past was the past, for all of them._

"_Alright." He nodded. "I'll be careful with-"_

_His sentence trailed of when he noticed the commotion going on in the other room. Someone was shouting some very angry French. Francis? But that boy wasn't supposed to come in today. The angry shouts came closer and with a loud BANG the door to the study was pulled open. In the doorway stood a very angry looking French boy, who determinately strutted into the room, closely followed by a confused looking Arthur, who quickly closed the door again. Before it closed, Gilbert could hear Nikolas shouting. _

"_Keep the fucking racket down, all of you! My brother's trying to sleep!"_

_There was a moment of silence, where all looked at the out of breath Frenchman who seemed too angry to say anything anymore. The silence was broken by a whimper from the dog in Toris's arms, who seemed to unfreeze in favour of petting the ruffled hair on it's furry head. Gilbert could see Ivan assessing Francis, just like Gilbert had done. _

_Then Arthur spoke up, grabbing Francis's arm. "Will you tell me what is bloody wrong, frog?" The French boys fists where clenched, and Gilbert was surprised to see the normally jovial boy so angry and –seemingly- a little panicked. He did not answer Arthur, however._

"…_Arthur? What the fuck's going on?" Gilbert asked the other blonde. "Francis looks like he's having a fucking stroke."_

"_I have no idea!" Arthur answered. "He just came waltzing in, muttering and cursing in that bloody awful language of his!" _

_Francis shook of his best friend's arm and stepped forward towards Ivan._

_With a voice that shook with emotion, Francis spoke. "I want in."_

_Ivan raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"_

_Gilbert was shocked, did Francis mean what he think he meant? If so, was he fucking crazy? The boy had no need for getting involved in the business. He was no street rat after all. Gilbert saw Arthur recoil, as if being hit, he undoubtedly also understood what Francis meant, just like he understood the dangers of Francis's proposal. _

"_I said," Francis voice was hard and serious. "I want in." He stepped forward and presented Ivan with a note. "How many runs would I have to make to get this kind of money."_

_The Russian took the note, still watching Francis attentively, before moving his eyes to the little piece of paper. "…this is a lot, da?" Ivan said. "You would have to do a lot of runs, it would take time. Francis, comrade, why do you need this money? Why do you change your attitude regarding my proposal?"_

"_Is it possible to raise this kind of money in a few months?"_

_Francis and Ivan stared at each other, both with an extremely intense look within them. Gilbert himself exchanged a confused gaze with Arthur, who seemed at a loss for words. What was surprising, was that even the English boy did not know what Francis was planning._

"_Da, if you take on some… high risk assignments… it is possible, but…" it wasn't often that Ivan sounded unsure, but he did now. "I would not advise it. Comrade, why do you need this money on such short notice?"_

_Francis's gaze hardened. "My father is useless, spineless and my mother is very sick. I cannot trust that he will do what is necessary to save my mother. Therefor I will do it."_

"_Your mother?" Arthur seemed to understand now. "Did her condition worsen?"_

"_Yes," Francis answered, turning towards his friend. "If I don't do anything soon, she'll surely…" He trailed of, a pained expression on his face, before turning once again towards Ivan. "So it IS possible?"_

"_Francis!" Arthur interrupted. "Didn't you hear him? He said 'high-risk', do you even comprehend how dangerous that is?"_

_Ivan nodded. "Arthur is right, it is not a good idea. I can set you up with other-"_

"_I need this money fast!" Francis said, once again enraged. "If I do nothing, my mother will surely die!"_

_Arthur grabbed his sleeve. "Francis-"_

"_No Arthur! My mother is not some lowlife who abandoned me, nor is she a drug addict, an alcoholic or a damn whore! My mother is a sweet loyal woman who's always taken care of me and who's only fault is staying with my father, who is the biggest weakling I have ever met! J'aime ma mere! I will not abandon her."_

_Arthur recoiled as if he had been hit, taking a step away from the other French boy. His eyebrows frowned and his eyes became cold. "What is that supposed to mean?"_

_Francis did not seem to notice the change of demeanour of his best friend, for he was still intently staring at Ivan, eyes begging for a chance out of the mess Armound Bonnefoy had placed his family in. Gilbert reckoned the boy really loved his mother, to be so focused on his goal, blind to the dangers and the hurt he would put others in by exposing himself to such a dangerous profession. _

"_It means I want to save my mother, Arthur, and I would do anything to accomplish that." _

_He did not hear Arthur's quiet gasp._

_Gilbert took a step forward, trying to contain his anger. Because he was really angry about how Francis was behaving, and he was really angry that Francis would even think of being so reckless as to endanger his life. That world he had stepped in was not the world for children who still had loving parents and a chance in life. "Francis, stop talking bull," He hissed to his friend. "Transporting drugs from one dealer to another is dangerous enough as it is, if you take on those higher risk assignments you will not survive. Think you ass, what would your mother do if she knew you were putting yourself in this situation for her sake?" _

_The blonde boy spared him but a single glance. "I don't care, I will save her, Gilbert."_

"_Even if it means your life?"_

"_Yes." The answer was determent and so shocking it seemed to unfreeze the whole room. Toris shot up, the dog whining his hands. "How can you say that?" He gasped. _

_Gilbert shot forward and grabbed the boys collar, he knew his eyes were glaring holes in the other's and he growled in the most feral of voices. "You fucking asshole" he tightened his grip. "Don't be so fucking selfish, you French bastard!"_

_Ivan frowned. "Gilbert…"_

"_No!" Gilbert spat. "He needs to get fucking real! This ain't happening damn it!"_

_Francis did not do much to acknowledge the white haired boy other than a tiny gasp when he had been grabbed. The boy still looked at Ivan, a determent look on his face._

_Ivan looked back and he crossed his arms. "This is a very dangerous idea, comrade, I do not think it is a wise one. I fail to see why I would help you with your mission."_

_Francis barked out a little hard laugh. "You need people like me Ivan and you know it." _

_Gilbert, still clutching Francis, looked back at Ivan who seemed quite annoyed and was frowning deeply. Francis glared back and shifted his eyes to Gilbert. "I am selfish? Did you really just say that? How do you know? What do you all know about my problems? About my love? What do you know about a child's love for his parents and vice versa? How can you tell me to put myself in front of my weak strong-willed mother? How can you tell me to sit back and let her die? I need to do something, damn it, and I need to do it fast! This is the only way I can think of. I'm not the one that's being selfish. Just because you all can't fathom my love for my mother doesn't mean you can stop me! What do you people know about love?"_

_It was silent after that._

_What did they know? There was a reason they were all in that building together after all, they all had their own stories to tell, of survival, of endurance, of strength. But could they understand Francis? Understand what he wanted to do for his mother, just because she was his mother. How could they understand him? When all that came to mind when Gilbert thought about his parents, was the sadness of being abandoned._

_When the silence was pierced, it was by a pissed of British boy, who seemed angry and sad at the same time. "You are being cruel, Francis."_

_And Francis whipped around, for the voice had not sounded like it normally did. _

"_Did I not love her? Does Gilbert not love his step-sister and does Ivan not love Toris? Would Berwald not be completely lost if Tino would be gone? Does Lukas not sing his brother to sleep every night?"_

_Francis paled. "…What?"_

"_We know about love Francis, just because we are the world's trash does not mean we do not care. Because we do. We care about you, god, you are so selfish." Arthur took a step towards his friend. "So fucking selfish. Do you not get it? We love you Francis and we would be devastated if you would leave this world. Think about that, what would we do when you are gone? What would your parents do?"_

_Francis seemed to deflate, a stricken look upon his face. "I…I can't let her die Arthur. I'm… very sorry, but I just can't." after a silent moment, he righted his shoulders and turned towards Ivan. "I expect an answer tomorrow morning." With that, he tried to stroll out of the room, but he was hindered by the fact that he was viciously bitch-slapped by his eternal rival. _

_Arthur growled. "Fucking asshole…" Before he again made a dangerous swipe at the French face. "Why do you always think you have to do everything alone?!"_

_Francis blinked. "What-?"_

"_We'll fucking help you! I'll fucking help you! Did you really think this was the only way to save Cecille? Francis, goddamn, of course we'll help…" _

"_But… but you all need money too-"_

_Gilbert grinned. "A little extra work never killed anybody." Well in the drugs business it did, but what the heck. Toris smiled and nodded his head, seemingly already busy with a plan in his head._

_Ivan remained stoic, though a light spark had appeared in his eyes._

"_Francis don't you get it? We love you."_

_Silence._

"_I fucking love you, you annoying French wanker."_

* * *

><p>Letters to you.<p>

Arthur,

No nicknames or funny business this time… She is really sick, Arthur, really, really sick. Every day I see her health worsen, her skin becoming pale and her eyes becoming dull. My father sits by her side every day, he sits by her side and is holding her hand. I can see it from a mile away, he has already give up.

But I haven't, he is weak, but I am not.

And I don't know what to do… But I'll figure it out, one way or another.

Keep writing to me, my love, it keeps me sane, it keeps me going, it keeps me happy.

Forever yours,

Francis Bonnefoy.

* * *

><p>I hope you all liked it! Please R&amp;R!<p> 


End file.
